Page:Poems - Lewis (1812).djvu/66

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POEMS.
Yet if I wrong thee, if indeed'Tis fear that makes thy poor heart bleed,Lest She thou lov'st, some other should prefer,Let me thy jealous doubts efface,Wrong me not with a thought so base,For Delia trusts in thee!—Oh! trust in Her!
Believe, that in my own sincereAll vows but thine offend my ear;Then hush thy anxious bosom's care to rest;And when thou hear'st a Rival's name,Think that his sighs but fan the flame,Which thou alone hast kindled in my breast.
That wealth and title sue to me,Glads me, I own, since 'tis for theeSuch glorious glittering baubles I resign;Or should a smile my cheek adorn,Oh! trust me, I but smile in scorn,To think their merits should contend with thine.
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