62 
But Thou! who ne’er sought me with feelings like 
these, 
Who deigned not to flatter, and scarce cared to 
please, 
Who showed me my errors, and blamed me whene’er 
A fault in my conduct too oft would appear; 
Hast won in my bosom emotions unknown, 
For any beside thee — Thou bright peerless one! 
Whose hand like a master’s hath wakened at will, 
Each chord in my heart, and hath swayed it with 
skill, 
Calling up every ton^ which could pleasure bestow, 
And causing its music in streams to o’erflow; 
To thee, still to thee, is my preference given; 
And to thee bows my heart, as saints bow to Heaven. 
