Oh call me not a faithless friend!
The charge I cannot bear,
When spoken by such lips as thine,
By one so sweetly fair.
Pray yield me but the chance to tell,
The time to give to thee
A reason, and it will dispel
The doubts ye now can see.
Blest is the man whose onward course
Is free from every ill,
Who also doth impartially
Love’s golden censer fill.
DECEITFUL.
Deceitful, yet so young;
Deceitful, yet so fair;
Who, gazing on those charms,
Would think deceit was there?
Oh that I now must learn
Of beauty to beware!
For that it is a tempting bait
Upon a hidden snare.