Oh , Fanny, could I have been taught,
That, fond of Man, you would be caught ,
Before you could reflect —
That you would hate the zealous Friend,
Alert the feelings to defend,
The passions to connect —

Your charms I should have deem'd a curse,
Your fortune a perfidious nurse
To Cunning and Surprize;
But I was dup'd, and thought secure
The heart from all deception pure,
Against the robber's prize.

I am deceiv'd, and so are you ,
'Tis a false light that both pursue,
A meteor's idle glare:
I dreamt that Passion could be wise;
You that no swain could have disguise,
Or false impressions wear.

We part — but, ere the doom is past,
Which may the sunshine overcast
Of Nature's vernal morn;
Hear me as on the bed of Death,
Or, if you caught the parting breath,
To its injunction sworn.

Be ever studious to deserve
The Lover, by discreet reserve,
And from pursuit retire:
Blush at the hint of preference,
And make him love you for your sense,
But play not with desire.
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