Think you, made a deal of brass?’
And she answered: ‘Sir, I rather
Should imagine that he has.’
Uwins, then, his whiskers scratching,
Leer’d upon the maiden’s face;
And her hands with ardor catching,
Folded her in his embrace.
‘La, Sir! let alone—you fright me!’
Said the daughter of the Jew:
‘Dearest! how these eyes delight me!