If Love’s a sweet Passion.
IF love’s a sweet passion, why does it torment?
If a bitter, O tell me whence comes my complaint?
Since I suffer with pleasure, why should I complain,
Or grieve at my fate since I know ‘tis in vain
Yet so pleasing the pain is, so soft is the dart,
That at once it both wounds me, and tickles my heart.
I grasp her hands gently, look languishing down,
And by passionate silence I make my love known.
But oh! how I’m bless’d when so kind she does prove,
By some willing mistake to discover her love.
When in striving to hide, she reveals all her flame,
And our eyes tell each other what neither dare name.
How pleasing is beauty? how sweet are the charms?
How delightful embraces? how peaceful her arms?
Sure there’s nothing so easy as learning to love;
‘Tis taught us on earth, and by all things above:
And to beauty’s bright standart all heroes must yield,
For ‘tis beauty that conquers, and keeps the fair field.
– Authors Unknown.