‘ All eyes have stared, I've blown a blast so strong;
‘ Forgot to smite at all, or smote too long.
‘ If at the Ale-house door, with careless glee
‘ One drinks to Jane, and darts a look on me;
‘ I feel that blush which her dear name will bring,
‘ I feel:— but, guilty Love,‘ tis not thy sting!
‘ Yet what are jeers? the bubbles of an hour;
‘ Jane knows what Love can do, and feels its pow'r;
‘ In her mild eye fair Truth her meaning tells;
‘ Tis not in looks like her's that falsehood dwells.
‘ As water shed upon a dusty way
‘ I've seen midst downward pebbles devious stray;
‘ If kindred drops an adverse channel keep,
‘ The crystal friends toward each other creep;
‘ Near, and still nearer, rolls each little tide,
‘ Th’ expanding mirror swells on either side:
‘ They touch —‘ tis done — receding bound'ries fly,
‘ An instantaneous union strikes the eye: