n -s a 
Fond Love, who lives in my heart for thee, 
Had a message this morning he wanted to send, 
While Fear, who will ever beside him be, 
Cried: “ Better beware, my friend !” 
But then, sweet Memory woke awhile, 
And softly she told in Love’s true ear, 
Of a certain bewitching and eloquent smile, 
Which you have forgotten, I fear! 
Young Hope, who was listening, caught the sound, 
“Oh! round my wings, be your hilletdoux bound, 
And I ’ll he your carrier-dove!” 
’Twas done — Hope went—(she knows the way 
By heart, for she’s travelled it oft ere now) — 
Ah! send her back to me, sweet, I pray, 
With the same unclouded brow ’ 
She will furl, at your feet, her weary wing, 
And oh! if the billet she bears be fled, 
Think that Fear must have followed and loosened the 
string — 
