Have made new conquests, or have kept the old
As fresh as new-blown roses in the hearts
Of their admiring slaves. One of the girls
(Laughing and lovely was she), ever won
High hearts to do her bidding, dreaming it
No sin that all should yield her love and homage,
Yet was no trifling, passionless coquette.
Her winning beauty was the standing toast
Of the wide neighborhood, and serenades
From many a gallant woke the sleeping echoes