MAIDA. WHEN late I saw thy favourite child, I thought my jealous heart would break; But when the unconscious infant smiled, I kiss'd it for its mother's sake. I kiss'd it, and repress'd my sighs, But then it had its mother's eyes, Mary, adieu! I must away: While thou art blest I'll not repine; But near thee I can never stay; My heart would soon again be thine. I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride Had quench'd at length my boyish flame; Nor knew, till seated by thy side, My heart in all,-save hope, the same. |