The Night Her Blackest Sable Wore

The Night her blackest Sable wore, And gloomy were the Skies; And glitt'ring Stars there were no more, Than those in Stella's Eyes: When at her Father's Gate I knock'd, Where I had often been, And Shrowded only with her Smock, The Fair one let me in.

Fast lock'd within her close Embrace, She trembling lay asham'd; Her swelling Breast, and glowing Face, And every touch inflam'd: My eager Passion I obey'd, Resolv'd the Fort to win; And her fond Heart was soon betray'd, To yield and let me in.

Then! then! beyond expressing, Immortal was the Joy; I knew no greater blessing, So great a God was I: And she transported with delight. Oft pray'd me come again; And kindly vow'd that every Night, She'd rise and let me in.

But, oh! at last she prov'd with Bern, And sighing sat and dull; And I that was as much concern'd, Look'd then just like a Fool: Her lovely Eyes with tears run o'er, Repenting her rash Sin; She sigh'd and curs'd the fatal hour, That e'er she let me in.

But who could cruelly deceive. Or from such Beauty part; I lov'd her so, I could not leave The Charmer of my Heart: But Wedded and conceal'd the Crime, Thus all was well again; And now she thanks the Blessed Hour, That e'er she let me in.