For Thee, cold Modesty throws off her Veil,
Disdains the rosie Blush and down-cast Eye;
Wishful she listens to the Lover's Tale,
And fans his Ardour with an Am'rous Sigh:
Pernicious Gold, Thou Pois'ner of the Mind,
How do'st thou cherish Guilt in ev'ry kind?