4.
Now that I’m fast growing older,
Youth’s by keener fire replaced,
And my arm, becoming bolder,
Circles many a loving waist.
Though at first they were affrighted,
Yet they soon were reconcil’d;
Modest doubts and wrath united
Were o’ercome by flattery mild.
Yet the best of all is wanting
When I taste my victory;
Can it be my youth’s enchanting
Bashful weak stupidity?