Go, distant shores and brighter conquests seek,
But my affection will your scorn survive!
For not from radiant eyes or crimson
My fondness I, or you your power derive;—Nor sprung the passion from your fancied love;
To me, your smiles no dear delusion caused;
I saw you tower my humble hopes above,
And, ere I loved,
I shuddered, trembled, paused.
But I was formed to prize superior worth,
And felt 't was virtue you, with love, to see;
I hoped a choice so glorious might call
Merit like yours,
Lorenzo, e'en in me.—Then go, assured that mine's no transient flame,
For on your worth it feeds, and lives upon your fame.
