Behold him seated in his chaise;
With face that self-distrust betrays;
He hazards not a single glance,
Nor thro' the glasses peeps by chance,
Lest some old friend, or haunt well known,
Shou'd melt his resolution down;
Fast as his foaming coursers fly,
Hyde Park attracts his half-rais'd eye;
He stole one fearful, conscious look,
Then dropt his eye upon his book.
Long as he view'd AUGUSTA'S tow'rs,
The sight relax'd his thinking pow'rs;
In vain he better plans revolves,
The softening sight his soul dissolves;
The tow'rs once lost, the smoke his eyes
Pursue, while yet its volumes rise:
Soon as he got entirely clear
From this enfeebling atmosphere,
His mind was brac'd, his spirits light,
His heart was gay, his humour bright;
Thus feeling, at his inmost soul,
The sweet reward of self-controul;
Impatient now, and all alive,
He thought he never shou'd arrive;
At length he enter'd with delight,
And, self-announc'd, embrac'd the knight:
The youth his joy unfeign'd exprest,
The knight with joy receiv'd his guest,
And own'd, with no unwilling tongue,
'Twas done like men when he was young.
For CELIA, not a word she said,
But blush'd, "celestial, rosy red!"
Her heighten'd charms transport the youth,
Who promis'd everlasting truth.