TO HER GRACE
THE DUCHESS OF P——.[10]
Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes.—Virg.
NIGHT THIRD.
NARCISSA.
From dreams, where thought in fancy’s maze runs mad,
To reason, that heaven-lighted lamp in man,
Once more I wake; and at the destined hour,
Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn,
I keep my assignation with my woe.
Oh! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought,