Where oft I wander’d by the winding floods! 
    And often spent, whene’er I chanced to stray,
    In amorous ditties all the livelong day! 
    What mournful rhymes I wrote and ’rased again,
    Spending the precious hours of youth in vain! 
    ’Twas in this school I learn’d the mystic things
    Of the blind god, and all the secret springs
    From which his hopes and fears alternate rise: 
    ’Graved on his frontlet, the detection lies,
    Which all may read, for I have oped their eyes. 
    And she, the cause of all my lengthen’d toils,
    Disdains my passion, though she boasts my spoils. 
    Of rigid honour proud, she smiles to see
    The fatal triumph of her charms in me. 
    Not Love himself can aid, for Love retires,
    And in her sacred presence veils his fires: 
    He feels his genius by her looks subdued,
    And all his spells by stronger spells withstood. 
    Hence my despair; for neither force nor art
    Can wound her bosom, nor extract the dart
    That rankles here, while proudly she defies
    The power that makes a captive world his prize. 
    She is not one that dallies with the foe,
    But with unconquer’d soul defies the blow;
    And, like the Lord of Light, displays afar
    A splendour which obscures each lesser star. 
    Her port is all divine; her radiant smile,
    And e’en her scorn, the captive heart beguile;
    Her accents breathe of heaven; her auburn hair
    (Whether it wanton with the sportive air,
    Or bound in shining wreaths adorns her face,)
    Secures her conquests with resistless grace;
    Her eyes, that sparkle with celestial fire,
    Have render’d me the slave of fond desire. 
    But who can raise his style to match her charms? 
    What mortal bard can sing the soft alarms
    That flutter in the breast, and fire the veins? 
    Alas! the theme surmounts the loftiest strains. 
    Far as the ocean in its ample bed
    Exceeds the purling stream that warbles through the mead,
    Such charms are hers—­as never were reveal’d
    On earth, since Phoebus first the world beheld! 
    And voices, tuned her peerless form to praise,
    Suffer a solemn pause with mute amaze. 
    Thus was I manacled for life; while she,
    Proud of my bonds, enjoy’d her liberty. 
    With ceaseless suit I pray’d, but all in vain;
    One prayer among a thousand scarce could gain
    A slight regard—­so hopeless was my state,
    And such the laws of Love imposed by fate! 
    For stedfast is the rule by Nature given,
    Which all the ranks of life, from earth to heaven. 
    With reverent awe and homage due obey,
    And every age and climate owns its sway. 
    I know the cruel pangs by lovers borne,
    When from the breast the bleeding heart is torn
    By Love’s relentless gripe; the deadly harms