Nor look so fiercely—there are none to kill. “I loved a lady, somewhat late in life, Perhaps too late, and would have made a wife; 290 Nay, she consented; for consent I call The mark’d distinction that was seen of all, And long was seen; but when she knew my pain, Saw my first wish her favour to obtain, And ask her hand—no sooner was it ask’d, Than she the lovely Jezebel unmask’d; And by her haughty airs, and scornful pride, My peace was wounded—nay, my reason tried; I felt despised and fallen when we met, And she, O folly! looks too lovely yet; 300 Yet love no longer in my bosom glows, But my heart warms at the revenge it owes. “O! that I saw her with her soul on fire, Desperate from love, and sickening with desire; While all beheld her just, unpitied pain, Grown in neglect, and sharpen’d by disdain! Let her be jealous of each maid she sees, } Striving by every fruitless art to please, } And when she fondly looks, let looks and fondness tease! } So, lost on passion’s never resting sea, 310 Hopeless and helpless, let her think of me! Charles, thou art handsome, nor canst want the art To warm a cold or win a wanton heart; Be my avenger”—— Charles, with smile, not vain, Nor quite unmix’d with pity and disdain, Sate mute in wonder; but he sate not long Without reflection:—“Was Sir Owen wrong? So must I think; for can I judge it right To treat a lovely lady with despite, Because she play’d too roughly with the love 320 Of a fond man whom she could not approve? And yet, to vex him for the love he bore Is cause enough for his revenge, and more. “But, thoughts, to council!—Do I wear a charm That will preserve my citadel from harm? Like the good knight, I have a heart that feels The wounds that beauty makes and kindness heals: Beauty she has, it seems, but is not kind— So found Sir Owen, and so I may find. “Yet why, O! heart of tinder, why afraid? 330 Comes so much danger from so fair a maid? Wilt thou be made a voluntary prize To the fierce firing of two wicked eyes? Think her a foe, and on the danger rush, Nor let thy kindred for a coward blush. “But how if this fair creature should incline To think too highly of this love of mine, And, taking all my counterfeit address For sterling passion, should the like profess? “Nay, this is folly; or, if I perceive 340 Ought of the kind, I can but take my leave; And if the heart should feel a little sore, Contempt and anger will its ease restore. “Then, too, to his all-bounteous hand I owe All I possess, and almost all I know; And shall I for my friend no hazard run, Who seeks no more for all his love has done? “’Tis but to meet and bow, to talk and smile, To act a part, and put on love awhile; And the good knight shall see, this trial made, 350 That I have just his talents to persuade;