 | Ionica |  |
188
Barine.
Lady, if you ever paidForfeit for a heart betrayed,
If for broken pledge you were
By one tooth, one nail less fair,
I would trust. But when a vow
Slips from off your faithless brow,
Forth you flash with purer lustre,
And a fonder troop you muster.
You with vantage mock the shade
Of a mother lowly laid,
Silent stars and depths of sky,
And high saints that cannot die.
189
Laughs at this each silly fay,
Laughs the rogue who's ever whetting
Darts of fire on flint of fretting.
Ay, the crop of youth is yours,
Fresh enlistments throng your doors,
Veterans swear you serve them ill,
Threaten flight, and linger still.
Dames and thrifty greybeards dread
Lest you turn a stripling's head;
Poor young brides are in dismay
Lest you sigh their lords away.
| Ionica | |