  The time I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. I scorned the lore she brought me, My only books Were women's looks, And folly's all they've taught me. Her smile when Beauty granted, I hung with gaze enchanted, Like him the Sprite Whom maids by night Oft meet in glen that's haunted. Like him, too, Beauty won me; But while her eyes were on me, If once their ray Was turned away, Oh, winds could not outrun me. And are those follies going? And is my proud heart growing Too cold or wise For brilliant eyes Again to set it glowing? No—vain, alas! th' endeavour From bonds so sweet to sever;— Poor Wisdom's chance Against a glance Is now as weak as ever. |
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