To Poem by Charlotte Dacre

My Reason for being one Week absent from her.
You ask me why my throbbing breast
Heaves with a rising sigh;
You ask me why the glist'ning tear
Stands trembling in my eye:

Forbear, fond love, the cause to seek,
That fills these tearful eyes;
Forbear the reason to inquire,
That bids these sorrows rise.

Of thee possest, whose noble breast
Each finer feeling warms;
Of thee possest, whose angel form
My ravish'd senses charms;

No fears immediate shake my breast;
But thoughts of future fate
Instil the salutary dread
Of happiness too great.

This then alone the secret cause
That wakes the rising woe;
This, this alone the secret grief
That makes my eyes o'erflow.

'Tis the religious awe of love
Which prompts the sudden flight;
The pang endur'd, the off'ring made,
Again you bless my sight.

The Samian thus who felt his bliss
Above a mortal's rise,
Threw from his hand the gem he priz'd,
To Fate a sacrifice.