Gentle yet just, my Judgment is beguil’d. Oh! could I see thee angry and, when teiz’d, Mov’d to resent—now sooth’d, and now displeas’d— I should have hope; for, as thy Anger rose, The Grief it caused thy Pity would compose. 40 Could I a weakness in thy Heart discern, Love there might enter and enjoy his turn; But, tho’ I seek thee early, leave thee late, } And all day long upon thy pleasure wait, } I find thee firm as Truth and fixed as Fate. } Yet, what forbids? my years beyond thy own } Are few, nor these in peevish Manners shewn; } My Title, fortune, friends and family are known. } These are not much; but I have more than these; Sure, love like mine and faithfulness might please. 50 Our Thoughts in all their Views appear to strike On the same Chords, and we have tastes alike— And shall we here alone the difference prove, And there be no Similitude in Love? “Would’st thou thy Sister call to Life, O take My Heart instead and what shall please thee make! If Time, Entreaty and thy friends, incline That Heart to love, I could insure thee mine; But, if that Heart have purpose fix’d and sure, And I must Coldness tho’ not scorn endure; 60 If something tell thee, ‘Heed not Fancy’s tale Nor let her Visions o’er my Truth prevail’; If that dread something, call it what you will, Oppose me strongly and oppose me still: Be like thyself, be candid, and impart Thyself the Tidings to a doubtful Heart; If Bliss await him, make thy Lover blest; If not, oh, give these doubts and Terrors rest!” “It grieves me much,” replied the gentle Maid, While Godfrey listened, of each Word afraid, 70 That I am urged those Motives to explain Which safe Experience bids the Sex retain. What would my Friend? hast thou a Right to see The Heart’s fond folly, scarcely known to me? Say, is it friendly, is it kind to trace } The tender failings of an erring race, } In whom the faintest Speck is held Disgrace? } ’Tis true I cannot with thy wish comply; But is it right that I should tell thee why, And to thy harder Sex make failings known 80 That I conceal with Caution from my own? “Then [hear]—and know I own thee for a friend; And my Confession thy Suspense shall end. Know then, I cannot from my breast expel A strong Impression fated there to dwell; Time but confirms it, and the pain it brings Proves that it lives, for it has life that stings. Ere yet my Father knew this Load of Wealth, And my lov’d Sisters shar’d my Views in Health, A Youth addressed me—I prefer’d him then; 90 But I was warn’d of the Designs of Men. His Views in Life were humble, he confest; But this * * *, nor could it be suppress’d. In him ’twas policy to win the Truth; And then I fear’d the fickle Soul of Youth. Yet, [though] rejected, he was ever near, And uninvited—let me own it, dear!