The Patowmac Guardian, And Berkeley Advertiser

SEAT OF THE MUSES.

THE LAST AMOROUS EPISTLE
-FROM
JONATHAN TO MOLLY.

How oft in love's vast lake I've been,
The water just up to my chin:
Sometimes soused over head and ears,
In deep distress, and drowned with fears.
How oft my hand around thy waist
What rapture on thy blooming cheek,
Enough to feel--I swoon a week.
How often have I stood aghast,
While from thine eyes such arrows past,
Each shower appeared to threat my last.
All night together have we sat
In one wide chair and held our chat
On love, on raptures, and all that.
Thou know'st how oft thy hand I've squeezed,
And thou hast ogled, and I teased.
Declaring in what state was I,
How I must die for love, and die,
And to the grave for succour fly.
'Midst all the ills, my life that compass.
There ne'er was one that made such rumpus,
About my insides, as the love,
Which I have had for thee, my doves
How oft have I, my dearest dear,
Declared that thou art angel fair,
And sworn that thou from heaven didst fly,
Yet knew that it was all a lie.
Say, know'st thou not what I've told o'er t
For thou shalt never know thee more.
Thou ne'er shalt catch me, no, by Jove,
A dying in a fit of love.
I know all thy coquettish arts.
To catch and hold light-headed hearts.
Long may'st thou reign; but when thy charms are
past,
The wealthiest fool shall take thee off at last.