Nor where I am: ah, whither shall I trace?
Where seek? of whom inquire? or which way turn?
I’m all uncertain; but have one hope still:
Where’er she is, she can not long lie hid.
Oh charming face! all others from my memory
Hence I blot out. Away with common beauties!
Par. So, here’s the other! and he mutters too
I know not what of love. Oh what a poor
Unfortunate old man their father is!
As for this stripling, if he once begin,