FANNY.
149
cliv.
And Fanny, as I said some pages since,
Was there in power and loveliness that even,
And he, her sire, demeaned him like a prince,
And all was joy—it looked a festival,
Where pain might smooth his brow, and grief her smiles recall.
clv.
Delights in tantalizing and tormenting;
One day we feed upon their smiles—the next
Is spent in swearing, sorrowing, and repenting.
(If in the last four lines the author lies,
He's always ready to apologize.)
clvi.
Than on that morn when Satan played the devil,
With her and all her race. A love-sick wooer
Ne'er asked a kinder maiden, or more civil,
Than Cleopatra was to Antony
The day she left him on the Ionian sea.
clvii.
With eye that charms, and beauty that outvies