Her countless hoards would his have been,
And none remain'd to give the rest.
TO A. ——
Oh! did those eyes instead of fire,
With bright, but mild affection shine,
Though they might kindle less desire,
Love, more than mortal, would be thine.
Her countless hoards would his have been,
And none remain'd to give the rest.
Oh! did those eyes instead of fire,
With bright, but mild affection shine,
Though they might kindle less desire,
Love, more than mortal, would be thine.