That light the eye and smooth the brow.
Thou wilt smile calmly at my fear
That want would e'er approach our door;
I know it must to thee appear
A melancholy dream: no more.
Wilt thou not be with riches blest?
Is not my fortune ample too?
Must I not, therefore, be possessed,
To feel that dread, of devils blue?
Alas! my wealth, that should maintain,