James Thomson (1700–1748)

FOR ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove

An unrelenting foe to Love,

And when we meet a mutual heart

Come in between, and bid us part?

Bid us sigh on from day to day,

And wish and wish the soul away;

Till youth and genial years are flown,

And all the life of life is gone?

But busy, busy, still art thou,

To bind the loveless joyless vow,

The heart from pleasure to delude,

To join the gentle to the rude.

For pomp, and noise, and senseless show,

To make us Nature’s joys forego,

Beneath a gay dominion groan,

And puts the golden fetter on!

For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer,

And I absolve thy future care;

All other blessings I resign,

Make but the dear Amanda mine.