What mortal could refuse the boon,
When offer’d, as thou wilt be, soon?
Thou art going to a sufferer’s couch;
He’ll take thee with a gentle touch,
And feast his languid sight awhile,
As though thou hadst a woman’s smile;
And then he’ll turn his grateful eyes
On her who brought the blushing prize.
There let them rest—they’ll surely see
A look so full of sympathy,