 | Poetical remains (1872) |  |
IV.
[Charles, I will tell, though wondering while I speak]
Charles, I will tell, though wondering while I speak,How I, who Love rebellious wont to scorn,
And mock his bonds as but by cowards worn,
Am caught, where wiser have been caught as weak.
Yet not or tress of gold, or vermeil cheek,
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My wondrous maid, to bless the lover born;
A decent state, a brow whence mildly break
The beams serene of amiable black,
A speech with not one language only grac'd,
A song, whose magic from her airy track
Might sweetly force the labouring moon to haste,
And eyes, whose glances such keen light'ning dart,
In vain our ears we seal to guard the heart.
| Poetical remains (1872) | |