Poems (Campbell)/The Ungenerous, Lerwick

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THE UNGENEROUS. LERWICK, 1813.
I read the language of thine eyes, And feel my bosom proudly swell—I can thy narrow mind despise, And all thy little thoughts can tell.
No hoarded stores of gold I boast, Nor lands, nor tenements, are mine;Yet, not for all on India's coast, Would I possess a soul like thine!
Then go,—enjoy thy valued wealth, And still thy fav'ring smiles refuse:Kind Heav'n will grant me peace and health, And leave me virtue and the Muse.

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