James Thomson (Джеймс Томсон)

To Myra

O thou, whose tender serious eyes
Expressive speak the mind I love;
The gentle azure of the skies,
The pensive shadows of the grove;

O mix their beauteous beams with mine,
And let us interchange our hearts;
Let all their sweetness on me shine,
Poured through my soul be all their darts.

Ah! 'tis too much! I cannot bear
At once so soft, so keen a ray:
In pity then, my lovely fair,
O turn those killing eyes away!

But what avails it to conceal
One charm, where nought but charms I see?
Their lustre then again reveal,
And let me, Myra, die of thee! 

1. Farewell to Ravelrig
2. Verses Addressed to Amanda
3. On the Hoop
4. The Four Seasons. Summer
5. Insects In Summer

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