To Lorenzo

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.