Thus in her absence is my fancy cool:
And then my schemes of purity designed
Pass, in a vestal-train, across my mind,
And, for the hour, my equal pulses rule.
Alas! alas! I know I play the fool,
So self-deluded, though not wholly blind;
For should her robe now flutter on the wind,
My blood would bubble like an Iceland pool.
Her sight woiuld fire me, and her touch undo
A thousand oaths, whose vows I meant to heed,
And swore with honest heart and purpose true;
But when my lips upon her lips should feed,
I would possess her, though hell yawned in view,
Ablaze to punish the presumptuous deed!