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Eyes with bright tears surcharged, and parted lips Quiv'ring to utter joy which hath no words,

His face, indeed, as I have heard thee say, Is like a wave which sun and shadow cross; Each thought makes there its momentary mark.

And then his towering form, and vaulting step, As tenderness gives way to exultation! O! it had been a feast to look upon him; And still shall be.

Art thou so well convinced— He loves my little damsel?—She is fair, But seems to me too simple, gay, and thoughtless, For noble Maro. Heiress as she is To all my wealth, had I suspected sooner, That he had smother'd wishes in his breast As too presumptuous, or that she in secret Preferred his silent homage to the praise Of any other man, I had most frankly Removed all hindrance to so fair a suit. For, in these changeling and degenerate days, I scarcelv know a man of nobler worth.

Thou scarcely know'st! Say certainly thou dost not. He is, to honest right, as simply true As shepherd child on desert pasture bred, Where falsehood and deceit have never been;