O can that heart untouched remain
By all Love's pleasure, all Love's pain,
When, while thou sing'st another's woes,
Thy cheek with deeper crimson glows;
When, as thou wak'st the feeling strain,
Through every clear translucent vein
That strays amid thy forehead's snow
The streams of life more swiftly flow;
When, mixed with many a passioned sigh,
Upon thy lips the accents die;
When sweeter languors, softer dews,
Those twin bright orbs of light suffuse?
And I have seen thy bosom's snow
Throb with the luxury of woe;
And I have marked the' impassioned glance
That speaks the soul's delicious trance;
And felt the poison of thine eye;
And drank the magic of thy sigh.
And, as the sweet infection stole
Through all my veins, and fired my soul,
I wished one timid glance might tell
How deep I felt the subtile spell.
Then, Lady, sing of love again;
And while thou wak'st the feeling strain,
While, mixed with many a passioned sigh,
Upon thy lips the accents die,
And while again thy bosom's snow
Throbs with the luxury of woe,
O pour on me the thrilling glance
That speaks the soul's delicious trance.
And if I dare one look to steal,
That look shall tell thee all I feel;
And, Lady, then thine altered eye
Shall feed my hopes, or bid them die.