Şiir 7
Begone untimely nerves! I trust no more,
Such was the promise of your strength before.
Could you the fair one balk of her delight,
Disgrace your master by so base a fright,
And want the courage for so sweet a fight?
85
Did she not kindly too your stay demand,
And tempt it softly with a soothing hand ?
But when solicitings no life could gain,
And inspirations, tho' from her, were vain;
"Who bade thee thus thyself to me to bring !
90
Go for a silly unperforming thing:
Art thou a wretch by some curs'd spell destroy'd,
Or here com'st fribbling with past pleasure cloy'd?"
She spoke, and springing from the bed she flew,
And secret beauties so disclos'd to view;
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Yet to conceal the joyless night's digrace,
She called for water with a smiling face,
And wash'd a nameless unpolluted place.
