 | The Harp of Erin |  |
97
REPARATION.
Shame on the sullen soul that for one
fault,
One tender fault, will slight the taintless mind!
Still, Zelia, thou'rt a vestal in thy thought;
And Love, as he is pictur'd, should be blind.
One tender fault, will slight the taintless mind!
Still, Zelia, thou'rt a vestal in thy thought;
And Love, as he is pictur'd, should be blind.
Then wipe, my dear, those dewy eyes of thine,
That, like a dying dove's, are turn'd on me:
Mine was the rapture; all the sin be mine,
If thou from sorrow and from sin art free.
That, like a dying dove's, are turn'd on me:
Mine was the rapture; all the sin be mine,
If thou from sorrow and from sin art free.
Though cruel custom mar the wanderer's rest,
And thy sweet beauty ill such scorn can bear,
Love, gentlest monitor, unlocks this breast,
And fondly welcomes his old mistress there.
And thy sweet beauty ill such scorn can bear,
Love, gentlest monitor, unlocks this breast,
And fondly welcomes his old mistress there.
Let malice rail, let scandal be thy foe:
But sure that heav'n which drest thee in delight,
Will spare its erring masterpiece; for know,
Hadst thou no stain thou wert an angel quite.
But sure that heav'n which drest thee in delight,
Will spare its erring masterpiece; for know,
Hadst thou no stain thou wert an angel quite.
| The Harp of Erin | |