In fact, the youth was right;
She could, but love was dreadful in her sight;
Love like a spectre in her view appear’d;
The nearer he approach’d the more she fear’d.
But knew she, then, this dreaded love? She guess’d
That he had guilt—she knew he had not rest;
She saw a fear that she could ill define, 320
And nameless terrors in his looks combine.
It is a state that cannot long endure,
And yet both parties dreaded to be sure.