'FOR me, kind Heaven, a lovely Bride
'Decked with your choicest gifts, provide!
'In wisdom, virtue, beauty, grace,
'All other Nymphs she must surpass.
'No fault or failing must she show;
'No speck, though slight, will I allow.
'Ye, Powers of Love, ah, tell me where,
'My steps shall meet this matchless fair!'

Thus spoke AMANTOR in the hour
He left his long-loved, native shore,
For distant realms, that seas divide,-
To seek PERFECTION in a bride.
His bark first hailed a favoured coast,
Which Heaven's peculiar care might boast:
Where dwelt, 'mid endless summer hours,
The PRINCESS of the Rosy Bowers.
How sweet young passion's early sighs,
Ere cruel fears or doubts arise!
'Twas then Perfection seemed enshrined
In fair ROSARA'S form and mind:
Expression's breathing smiles illumed
That face, where matchless beauty bloomed;
Her Wit's enchantment won the sense,
And each bright glance was Eloquence:

And (as in every gift she shines
That Genius, or that Taste combines,
Or captivates, with sweeter art,
By every Virtue of the Heart)
Her graceful excellence, confest,
Those most declare who know her best.
The Prince long sought a happy hour,
His tale of raptured Love to pour:
It came- the moment long desired!
Within a Rosy Bower retired
The Princess, with complacent air,
And smiles consenting, heard his prayer.
'Yes, happy youth,' she said, 'be mine:
'Around thee now this Chain I twine,
'Which binds thee ever to my sight
'In pleasing thrall and bondage light.'

She said, and round her captive threw
A Rosy Wreath, of glowing hue;
The beauteous fetters round him twined,
And thus her willing slave confined.
How proud AMANTOR felt, how vain,
When first he wore ROSARA'S CHAIN !-
But heavy soon the links, that bound
His steps to one continued round!
Whene'er, for pleasure, or for change,
He sought in newer scenes to range,
The Rosy Bands his feet retard,
'Till comes his sweet, but watchful guard.
At length he ventures to complain:
'Alas! my tender cares are vain,
'Some doubts my fair must still retain.
'Else surely would she leave me free
'To worship her at liberty!'

He ceased- The Princess soft began:
'Inconstant is the heart of man!
'Ah! say, unfettered should you rove,
'Could I command Unchanging Love?
'Away with vain and murmuring plaint,
'And bear for me this mild restraint!'
Her soothing words his soul subdue;
Again he vows Obedience new;
But soon, again his soul rebels;
Regret the restless prayer impels;
His spirits droop, his Love declines;
Like a wild songster caged, he pines:
To break his Chain his strength he tries;
The Chain though soft, his strength defies.
He finds the Lady of his Heart
Has formed it with a magic art.

Now, yielding sad to vain regret,
'Mid arching groves a Sage he met;
A Bard, deep-read in magic lore,
And various science' mystic store:
Who, as his steps the gardens traced,
The captive thus with smiles addressed:
'Hail, happy youth, whom Heaven ordains
'To wear the bright ROSARA'S chains!'
'Call me not so,' the Prince replies,
'These blooming fetters cause my sighs;
'Oh, rather let thy wisdom speak!
'Teach me these mystic bonds to break!'
Then thus the Sage, 'Oh, fond deceit!
'How oft our cares our purpose cheat!
'That Jealousy, ignoble guest,
'Should thus possess ROSARA'S breast!

'Mistrusting all her countless charms,
'In force she seeks superior arms.
'For this she to a Sybil pray'd
'To lend her all her magic aid,
'To bind the youth her heart should love
'In Chains no power could e'er remove.
'She little knew, misguided fair,
'How fruitless was her anxious care!
'Believe me, sweet ROSARA'S mind
'Is pure, her heart benign and kind-
'Yet still, if freedom fires your soul,
'The wish I aim not to control:
'Through various scenes and fortunes passed,
'To her you may return at last.
'To me is known, by wizard lore,
'A counter-charm that ends her power.

'Of Roses White the snowy wreath
'Is to her soft enchantment death,
'This secret told, no more delay!
'Around her, as in sportive play,
'The garland twine of flowerets pale,
'And all her trusted arts will fail;
'Powerless will prove the Chains she gave,
'And he she loved no more her slave.'
Soon as the Enchantress meets his eyes,
The youth the promised wonder tries.
The wreathed, talismanic flower
The nymph bereaves of all her power.
Amazed she cries, 'What unknown charm
'Can thus my potent arts disarm?'
Ah, soon with woe her bosom heaves;
Her flowery realms AMANTOR leaves.

'I fly,' he said, 'with scorn, the mind
'That thinks in Chains the heart to bind!'
Now, sinking 'mid o'er-whelming cares,
Thus speaks the Princess through her tears:
'Accursed shall for ever prove
'The Rose, that robs me of my love.
'For ever be the Red and White,
'In arms opposed, and deadly fight!
'Yes, yes, behold, in unborn times,
'In distant scenes, in northern climes,
'The different Roses shall appear
'The badges of Infuriate War!
'There vanquished, shall the Paler Flower
'Confess her Crimson Conqueror's power!-
'Ah, fruitless rage, unheeded sighs!
'My love, my grief AMANTOR flies!'

'No, never shall this heart,' he said,
'Be won by a suspicious Maid;
'For Confidence, is still the soul,
'That Love, or Friendship must control.
'Such wily cautions I disdain;
'For other Nymphs I tempt the main.'