Celia and I the other Day br Walk'd o'er the Sand-Hills to the Sea: br The setting Sun adorn'd the Coast, br His Beams entire, his Fierceness lost: br And, on the Surface of the Deep, br The Winds lay only not asleep: br The Nymph did like the Scene appear, br Serenely pleasant, calmly fair: br Soft fell her words, as flew the Air. br With secret Joy I heard Her say, br That She would never miss one Day br A Walk so fine, a Sight so gay. br br But, oh the Change! the Winds grow high: br Impending Tempests charge the Sky: br The Lightning flies: the Thunder roars: br And big Waves lash the frighten'd Shoars. br Struck with the Horror of the Sight, br She turns her Head, and wings her Flight; br And trembling vows, She'll ne'er again br Approach the Shoar, or view the Main. br br Once more at least look back, said I; br Thy self in That large Glass descry: br When Thou art in good Humour drest; br When gentle Reason rules thy Breast; br The Sun upon the calmest Sea br Appears not half so bright as Thee: br 'Tis then, that with Delight I rove br Upon the boundless Depth of Love: br I bless my Chain: I hand my Oar; br Nor think on all I left on Shoar. br br But when vain Doubt, and groundless Fear br Do That Dear Foolish Bosom tear; br When the big Lip, and wat'ry Eye br Tell Me, the rising Storm is nigh: br 'Tis then, Thou art yon' angry Main, br Deform'd by Winds, and dash'd by Rain; br And the poor Sailor that must try br Its Fury, labours less than I. br br Shipwreck'd, in vain to Land I make; br While Love and Fate still drive Me back: br Forc'd to doat on Thee thy own Way, br I chide Thee first, and then obey: br Wretched when from Thee, vex'd when nigh, br I with Thee, or without Thee, die.