Sketches in verse :: :: University of Virginia Library

Wilt thou, Emira, peerless maid,
An honest truth approve;
Nor close thine ear to Reason's voice
Attun'd by softer love?
Why are those witching looks that seem
The effulgence of the soul,
Darted with such a wild caprice
On Granville, Allen, Hole?
Thy sportive eyes on those who list
Under thy magic banner,
Too often hast thou, in my sight,
Maneuvred in this manner.

A languish from those lustrous orbs
On sighing Granville thrown,
He gazes with a fond surprize,
And marks thee for his own.
With eagerness he now prepares
Again to catch thine eye:
The rambler, drest in smiles, is fixt
On Allen sitting by.
Allen, in extasy, exclaims,
“O Lady most divine!”—
But sudden sees the averted rays
On Hole propitious shine.
Ere Hole hath power to bless the glance,
Alas! the glance is flown;
And, beaming once on Allen more,
Is back to Granville gone.

You think your smiles subdue mankind:
Emira! grant it true—
The beauteous adder hath a sting,
Yet bears a balsam too.

The body of a dead serpent bruised on the wound it has occasioned, is said to be an infallible remedy for its bite: common report is sufficient to warrant a poetical allusion.