XXXVIII.
How swiftly sped the hours in happy nights
When, after work, he rested there at home!
Such winning ways he had to lure my trust!
Such sweet pet names would call me, till I felt
So fondly small, he well might be my lord!
Would tease me so, anon to comfort me!
Or rouse my temper that he mild might seem;
Or tell such tales, that in my dreams I laugh’d
At wit reflecting, though distorting, his;