Or far famed squalls of Gabrielli.
And sparkling wit and steady sense,
In that fair form with beauty vie,
But tinged with virgin diffidence,
And the soft blush of modesty.
Had I the treasures of the world,
All the sun views or the seas borrow
(Else may I to the devil be hurled),
I’d lay them at her feet to-morrow.
But as we Bards reap only Bays,