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ELEGY 1.
The Poet relates how he obtained Delia's pocket-handkerchief.
'Tis mine! what accents can my joy declare?
Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout!
Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair,
That left the tempting corner hanging out!
Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout!
Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair,
That left the tempting corner hanging out!
I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels,
After long travel to some distant shrine,
When at the relic of his saint he kneels,
For Delia's pocket-handkerchief is mine.
After long travel to some distant shrine,
When at the relic of his saint he kneels,
For Delia's pocket-handkerchief is mine.
When first with filching fingers I drew near,
Keen hope shot tremulous thro' every vein,
And when the finish'd deed removed my fear,
Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain.
Keen hope shot tremulous thro' every vein,
And when the finish'd deed removed my fear,
Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain.
