Loth to retire, yet trembling to advance,
Appear’d the nymph, and in her gentle guest
Stirr’d soft emotions till the hour of rest;
Sweet was his sleep, and in the morn again
He felt a mixture of delight and pain:
“How fair, how gentle,” said the ’Squire, “how meek,
And yet how sprightly, when disposed to speak!
Nature has bless’d her form, and heaven her mind,
But in her favours Fortune is unkind;
Poor is the maid - nay, poor she cannot prove