Not in a lover’s humble strains
I ask a dimple for my pains
I hate the smile which other seek
And wish thy frown may last a week.
Destructive fair one was it well
O’er all my wits to cast a spell
To close my ear, to bind my tongue
While mighty music round me rung?
Lost in the concert’s magic maze
I paid to hear and stood to gaze!
When Handel swell’d in strains sublime
My faithless foot forgot its time!
Alas! my busy heart beat true
Tho’ all its time was lost on you.
Chapeaux and elbows round me pressed
But ’twas the beauty bruised my breast
When flaming tapers sound distill’d
And wax my bristling tresses filled,
My martyr’d coat I scorn’d to wipe
And stood of melting love a type!
As open mouth’d the pigeon dies
Lur’d by the serpent’s fatal eyes.
For thee with more than Roman pride
My mouth received the scalding tide
But thine, not worth my true love’s half
Repaid the blister with — a laugh!
Thus proud one may thy beauty’s ray
Waste, like a torch of wax away!
May he who loves and loves thee best
Be robb’d of wit and speech and rest:
Like me forget to guard his coat
And feel a blister in his throat;
While fear and doubt to move your pity
Seal up his lips like spermaceti!