1795. ----- THE MISANTHROPE. AT first awhile sits he, With calm, unruffled brow; His features then I see, Distorted hideously,-- An owl's they might be now. What is it, askest thou? Is't love, or is't ennui? 'Tis both at once, I vow. 1767-9. ----- DIFFERENT THREATS. I ONCE into a forest far My maiden went to seek, And fell upon her neck, when: "Ah!" She threaten'd, "I will shriek!" Then cried I haughtily: "I'll crush The man that dares come near thee!" "Hush!" whisper'd she: "My loved one, hush! Or else they'll overhear thee!" 1767-9. ----- MAIDEN WISHES. WHAT pleasure to me A bridegroom would be! When married we are, They call us mamma. No need then to sew, To school we ne'er go; Command uncontroll'd, Have maids, whom to scold; Choose clothes at our ease, Of what tradesmen we please; Walk freely about, And go to each rout, And unrestrained are By papa or mamma. 1767-9. ----- MOTIVES. IF to a girl who loves us truly Her mother gives instruction duly In virtue, duty, and what not,-- And if she hearkens ne'er a jot, But with fresh-strengthen'd longing flies To meet our kiss that seems to burn,-- Caprice has just as much concerned As love in her bold enterprise. But if her mother can succeed In gaining for her maxims heed, And softening the girl's heart too, So that she coyly shuns our view,-- The heart of youth she knows but ill; For when a maiden is thus stern, Virtue in truth has less concern In this, than an inconstant will. 1767-9. ----- TRUE ENJOYMENT. VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart, Heap up a maiden's lap with gold; The joys of love thou must impart, Wouldst thou e'er see those joys unfold. The voices of the throng gold buys, No single heart 'twill win for thee; Wouldst thou a maiden make thy prize, Thyself alone the bribe must be. If by no sacred tie thou'rt bound, Oh youth, thou must thyself restrain! Well may true liberty be found, Tho' man may seem to wear a chain. Let one alone inflame thee e'er, And if her heart with love o'erflows, Let tenderness unite you there, If duty's self no fetter knows. First feel, oh youth! A girl then find Worthy thy choice,--let her choose thee, In body fair, and fair in mind, And then thou wilt be blessed, like me. I who have made this art mine own, A girl have chosen such as this The blessing of the priest alone Is wanting to complete our bliss. Nought but my rapture is her guide, Only for me she cares to please,-- Ne'er wanton save when by my side, And modest when the world she sees; That time our glow may never chill, She yields no right through frailty; Her favour is a favour still, And I must ever grateful be. Yet I'm content, and full of joy, If she'll but grant her smile so sweet, Or if at table she'll employ, To pillow hers, her lover's feet, Give me the apple that she bit,