Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/156

Rh

Earth's fair are her fleeting things; Heaven, too, lends her angels wings. What can charms to pleasure give, Such as being fugitive? Thus with love: oh! never try Further than a blush or sigh; Blush gone with the clouds that share it, Sigh pass'd with the winds that bear it.

met she then young ’s eye, His half-sad, half-reproachful sigh: His ! and could she be Votaress of inconstancy? As if repentant of her words, Blushing she bent her o'er the chords;