Became absorb'd in this unwelcome theme;
Nay every meditation, every dream,
Th'inexplicable sentence held to view,
‘ They're not both mine,’ was every morning new:
For, till this hour, the Maid had never prov'd
How far she was enthrall'd, how much she lov'd:
In that fond character he first appear'd;
His kindness charm'd her, and his smiles endear'd:
This dubious mystery the passion crost;
Her peace was wounded, and her Lover lost.
For George, with all his resolution strove
To check the progress of his growing love;
Or, if he e'er indulg'd a tender kiss,
Th'unravell' d secret robb'd him of his bliss.
Health's foe, Suspense, so irksome to be borne,
An ever-piercing and retreating thorn,
Hung on their Hearts, when Nature bade them rise,
And stole Content's bright ensign from their eyes.