O Fortune! if, by happy chance,
You’d throw this fair one in a trance,
Until I tumble on the plain—
But no! she cries a laughing rain—
A header dims my brief romance,
Her starry eyes.
And now whene’er I pass the seat
Where first I met that maiden sweet,
My aching heart is smote again;
The blush of shame o’ermounts my brow,