Her fondness sooth’d him, for the man was vain,
And he perceived that he could give her pain;
Cecilia liked not to profess her love,
But Fanny ever was the yielding dove;
Tender and trusting, waiting for the word,
And then prepared to hail her bosom’s lord.
Cecilia once her honest love avow’d,
To make him happy, not to make him proud; 390
But she would not, for every asking sigh,
Confess the flame that waked his vanity;