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 | The poetical works of John Trumbull . |  |
While round the fair, the coxcombs throng
With oaths, cards, billet-doux, and song,
She spread her charms and wish'd to gain
The heart of every simple swain;
To all with gay, alluring air,
She hid in smiles the fatal snare,
For sure that snare must fatal prove,
Where falsehood wears the form of love;
Full oft with pleasing transport hung
On accents of each flattering tongue,
And found a pleasure most sincere
From each erect, attentive ear;
For pride was her's, that oft with ease
Despised the man she wish'd to please.
She loved the chace, but scorn'd the prey,
And fish'd for hearts to throw away;
Joy'd at the tale of piercing darts,
And tort'ring flames and pining hearts,
And pleased perused the billet-doux,
That said, “I die for love of you;”
Found conquest in each gallant's sighs
And blest the murders of her eyes.
With oaths, cards, billet-doux, and song,
She spread her charms and wish'd to gain
The heart of every simple swain;
To all with gay, alluring air,
She hid in smiles the fatal snare,
For sure that snare must fatal prove,
Where falsehood wears the form of love;
80
On accents of each flattering tongue,
And found a pleasure most sincere
From each erect, attentive ear;
For pride was her's, that oft with ease
Despised the man she wish'd to please.
She loved the chace, but scorn'd the prey,
And fish'd for hearts to throw away;
Joy'd at the tale of piercing darts,
And tort'ring flames and pining hearts,
And pleased perused the billet-doux,
That said, “I die for love of you;”
Found conquest in each gallant's sighs
And blest the murders of her eyes.
| The poetical works of John Trumbull . | |