ANSWER
.
TOO
timorous
maid
!
can
time
or
chance
A
pure
ingenuous
flame
controul
?
O
lay
aside
that
tender
glance
,
That
melts
my
frame
,
that
kills
my
soul
!
Were
but
thy
outward
charms
admir'd
,
Frail
origin
of
female
sway
!
My
flame
like
other
flames
inspir'd
,
Might
then
like
other
flames
decay
:
But
whilst
thy
mind
shall
seem
thus
fair
,
Thy
soul's
unfading
charms
be
seen
;
Thou
may'st
resign
that
shape
and
air
,
Yet
find
thy
swain
—
an
ever-green
.