But, if to death thou hast thyself decreed, Then like a man perform the manly deed; The well-charged pistol to the ear apply, Make loud report, and like a hero die! Let rogues and rats on ropes and poison seize— Shame not thy friends by petty death like these; Sure we must grieve at what thou think’st to do, But spare us blushes for the manner too!” Then with inviting smiles she turn’d aside, 130 Allay’d his anger, and consoled his pride. Oft had the fickle fair beheld with scorn The unhappy man bewilder’d and forlorn; Then with one softening glance of those bright eyes Restored his spirit, and dispersed his sighs. Oft had I seen him on the lea below, As feelings moved him, walking quick or slow: Now a glad thought, and now a doleful came, And he adored or cursed the changeful dame, Who was to him as cause is to effect— 140 Poor tool of pride, perverseness, and neglect! Upon thy rival were her thoughts bestow’d; Ambitious love within her bosom glow’d; And oft she wish’d, and strong was her desire, The Lord could love her like the faithful Squire. But she was rivall’d in that noble breast— He loved her passing well, but not the best; For self reign’d there; but still he call’d her fair, And woo’d the Muse, his passion to declare. His verses all were flaming, all were fine, 150 With sweetness, nay with sense, in every line— Not as Lord Byron would have done the thing, But better far than lords are used to sing. It pleased the Maid, and she, in very truth, Loved, in Calista’s love, the noble youth; Not, like sweet Juliet, with that pure delight, Fond and yet chaste, enraptur’d and yet right; Not like the tender Imogen, confined To one, but one! the true, the wedded mind; True, one preferr’d our sighing nymph as these, 160 But thought not, like them, one alone could please. Time pass’d, nor yet the youthful peer proposed To end his suit, nor his had Villars closed; Fond hints the one, the other cruel, bore; That was more cautious, this was kind the more: Both for soft moments waited—that, to take Of these advantage; fairly, this, to make. These moments came—or so my Lord believed— He dropp’d his mask; and both were undeceived. She saw the vice that would no longer feign, 170 And he an angry beauty’s pure disdain. Villars that night had in my ear confess’d, He thought himself her spaniel and her jest. He saw his rival of his goddess sure; “But then,” he cried, “her virtue is secure. Should he offend, I haply may obtain The high reward of vigilance and pain; Till then I take, and on my bended knee, Scraps from the banquet, gleanings of the tree.” Pitying, I smiled; for I had known the time 180 Of Love insulted—constancy my crime. Not thus our friend: for him the morning shone In tenfold glory, as for him alone; He wept, expecting still reproof to meet,