“Ah! how oft averted heaven
Will he weep, and thy dissembling.
And, poor novice, view with trembling
O’er the erewhile tranquil deep,
By the angry tempest driven,
Billowy tumult sweep;
“Now who in thy smile endearing
Basks, with foolish fondness hoping
To his love thou’lt e’er be open,
To his wooing ever kind,