Seeming at least unconscious she was fair;
Meek in her spirit, timid in her air, 100
And shrinking from his glance if one presumed
To come too near the beauty as it bloom’d.
Robert beheld her in her father’s cot
Day after day, and blest his happy lot;
He look’d indeed, but he could not offend
By gentle looks—he was her father’s friend.
She was accustom’d to that tender look,
And frankly gave the hand he fondly took;