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[LOVE AND GOLD.]

1

I cannot talk of Love to thee,
Though thou art young and free and fair!
412

There is a spell thou dost not see,
That bids a genuine love despair.

2

And yet that spell invites each youth,
For thee to sigh, or seem to sigh;
Makes falsehood wear the garb of truth,
And Truth itself appear a lie.

3

If ever Doubt a place possest
In woman's heart, 'twere wise in thine:
Admit not Love into thy breast,
Doubt others' love, nor trust in mine.

4

Perchance 'tis feigned, perchance sincere,
But false or true thou canst not tell;
So much hast thou from all to fear,
In that unconquerable spell.

5

Of all the herd that throng around,
Thy simpering or thy sighing train,
Come tell me who to thee is bound
By Love's or Plutus' heavier chain.

6

In some 'tis Nature, some 'tis Art
That bids them worship at thy shrine;
413

But thou deserv'st a better heart,
Than they or I can give for thine.

7

For thee, and such as thee, behold,
Is Fortune painted truly—blind!
Who doomed thee to be bought or sold,
Has proved too bounteous to be kind.

8

Each day some tempter's crafty suit
Would woo thee to a loveless bed:
I see thee to the altar's foot
A decorated victim led.

9

Adieu, dear maid! I must not speak
Whate'er my secret thoughts may be;
Though thou art all that man can reck
I dare not talk of Love to thee.
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