Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/104

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Oh! frail are the many links that are In the chain of affection's tender care, And light at first: but, alas! few know How much watching is ask'd to keep them so. The will that yields, and the winning smile That soothes till anger forgets the while; Words whose music never yet caught The discord of one angry thought; And all those nameless cares that prove Their heaviest labour work of love. Ay, these are spells to keep the heart, When passion's thousand dreams depart: But none of this sweet witchcraft came To fan the young count's waning flame. Passionate as his own wild skies, Rank and wealth seem'd light sacrifice