POPE Wh BRY. 1068 
O, happy girl! I think theeso, 
For mark the poets’* song— 
‘© Man wants but little here below, 
‘¢ Nor wants that’ littie/ong !” 
THE MAID WITH BOSOM COLD, 
FROM ENGLISH LYRICS. 
By William Smyth. 
OF me they cry, I’m often told— 
‘¢ See there the Maid with bosom cold ! 
Indifference e’er her heart presides, ~ 
And love and lovers she derides ; 
Their idle darts, unmeaning chains, 
Fantastic whims and silly pains : 
In pride secure, in reason bold, 
See there the Maid with Bosom Cold.” 
Ah! ever be they thus deceiv’d ! 
Still be my bosom cold beliew’d, 
And never may enquiring eyes 
Pierce thro’ unhappy love’s disguise = 
Yet could they all my bosom share, 
And see each painful tumult there, 
Ah! never should I then. be told 
That ’mthe Maid with Bosom Cold. 
A fate severe, my suffering mind 
To endless struggles has consign’d, 
I feel a flame_I must not own, 
I love, yet every hope is flown ; 
Too strong to let my passion sway, 
Too weak to teach it to obey, 
T-agonize, and then am told © 
That I’m the Maid with Bosom Cold. 
The joy o’er all my looks exprest 
Conceals a bosom illat rest ; 
To balls and routs I haste away, 
But only imitate the gay : i 
I jest at love and mock his power, 
Yet feel his triumph every hour ; 
* Drs. Goldsmith and Young. / 
3Y 4 And 
