TO
LOTHARIO
.
THINK
not
,
Lothario
,
while
I
view
The
bright
expression
of
thy
face
,
And
on
thy
cheek
of
crimson
hue
Emotion's
varying
beauties
trace
,
That
in
my
heart
one
feeling
dwells
,
But
what
the
coldest
must
approve
,
Nor
think
my
conscious
bosom
swells
With
aught
resembling
secret
love
.
No
....
still
these
eyes
can
fix
on
thine
,
Nor
fear
their
keenest
glance
to
meet
;
And
when
thou
boldly
searchest
mine
,
My
quiet
heart
disdains
to
beat
.
But
,
if
by
vain
self-love
misled
,
Thou
in
my
looks
canst
passion
see
;
And
think
,
by
weak
illusions
fed
,
My
towering
hopes
aspire
to
thee
....
Let
us
my
absent
Henry
seek
;
And
when
he
meets
my
conscious
eyes
,
In
every
glance
my
heart
will
speak
,
And
plainly
tell
for
whom
it
sighs
.