Page:Edwin and Emma (1).pdf/3

3 Till Edwin came, the pride of swains

A soul that knew no art;

And from whose eye, serenely mild,

Shone forth the feeling heart.

A mutual flame was quickly caught;

Was quickly too reveal'd;

For neither bosom lodg'd a wish,

That virtue keeps conceal'd.

What happy hours of home felt bliss,

Did love on both bestow;

But bliss too mighty long to last.

Where fortune proves a foe.

His sister who, like Envy form'd,

Like her in mischief joy'd,

To work them harm with wicked skill,

Each darker art employ'd.

The father too a sordid man,

Who love nor pity knew,

Was all-unfeeling as the clod,

From whence his riches grew.

Long had he seen their secret flame,

And seen it long unmov'd!

Then with a father’s frown at last

Had sternly disapprov'd.