Oh mock not then their penitential woes,
Thou may'ft deign to mark this humble theme,
Nor feek with foul derifion to expose,
And give to infamy their tainted name.

Nor deem me one of melancholy's train,
If anxious for the forrow-wedded fair ;
(Tho' little skilful of poetic ftrain,
Whose pleafing mufic takes the tuneful ear.)

I steal impatient from the idle throng,
The roving gay companions of my age, *
To temper with their praise my artless song,
And foft-ey'd pity in their caufe engage.

"Tis virtue's talk to foothe affliction's finart,
To join in fadness with the fair distrest :
Wake to another's pain the tender heart,
And move to clemency the gen'rous breast.

*This poem was first published in 1763.

YARICO

YAR ICO

то

IN K L E.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Inkle is preparing to fet out for England, after having fold Yarico to a merchant at Barbadoes, ' notwithstanding that the poor girl, (fays the Spectator) to incline him to commiferate her 'condition, told him that he was with child by him But he only made ufe of that information to • rise in his demands upon the purchaser.'

YARICO TO INK LE.

WITH falfehood lurking in thy fordid breast,
And perj'ry's feal upon thy heart imprest,

Dar'ft thou, Oh Chriftian! brave the founding waves,
The treach'rous whirlwinds, and untrophied graves?
Regardless of my woes, fecurely go,

No curfe-fraught accents from these lips fhall flow;
My fondest wish shall catch thy flying fail,
Attend thy course, and urge the fav'ring gale:
May ev'ry blifs thy God confers be thine,
And all thy fhare of woe compris'd in mine.

One humble boon is all I now implore, Allow these feet to print their kindred shore : Give me, Oh Albion's fon! again to roam, For thee deferted my delightful home:

Το

To view the groves that deck my

native scene,

The limpid ftream, that graceful glides between:
Retrieve the fame I fpurn'd at Love's decree,

Afcend the throne which I forfook for thee:
Approach the bow'r-(why ftarts the unbidden tear }}
Where once thy YARICO to thee was dear.

The scenes the hand of time has thrown behind, Return impetuous to my bufy mind:

• What hoftile veffel quits the roaring tide

To harbour here its tempeft-beaten fide?

• Behold the beach receives the fhip-wreck'd crew
Oh mark their strange attire and pallid hue!
• Are these the Christians, restless fons of pride,
By avarice nurtur'd, to deceit allied?

'Who tread with cunning ftep the maze of art,

་

And mask with placid looks a canker'd heart? Yet note, fuperior to the num'rous throng, ⚫ (Even as the citron humbler plants among) 'That youth!-Lo! beauty on his graceful brow, • With nameless charms bids ev'ry feature glow: Ah! leave, fair ftranger, this unsocial ground, 'Where danger broods, and fury stalks around. • Behold thy foes advance-my steps pursue

To where I'll fcreen thee from their fatal view:

'He