She herself a youthful rose.
Grant, dear life, one look to me!
'Twill repay me all my woes,
What this bosom feels, feel thou.
Freely offer me thy hand;
Let the band that joins us now
Be no fragile rosy band!
1770. ——- WITH A GOLDEN NECKLACE.
THIS page a chain to bring thee burns,
That, train'd to suppleness of old,
On thy fair neck to nestle, yearns,
In many a hundred little fold.
To please the silly thing consent!