“Thine I must be,” she thought; “more foolish I!” }
While Richard at the scene stood mute and wondering by. }
His spirits hurried, but his bosom light,
He left his Phœbe with a calm “good night!”
So Love like Friendship fell! The youth awhile
Dreamt, sorely moved, of Phœbe’s witching smile—
But learned in daylight visions to forego
The Sailor’s laughing Lass, the Phœbe of the Row.
Home turn’d young Richard, in due time to turn,
With all old Richard’s zeal, the leaves of Burn; 360