 Tartars seize their destin'd prey. In vain with love our bosoms glow: Can all our tears, can all our sighs, New lustre to those charms impart? Can cheeks, where living roses blow, Where nature spreads her richest dyes, Require the borrow'd gloss of art?  The Literary Magazine, and American Register - Page 423edited by - 1805Full view - About this book
 | 530 pages
...clear as Rocnabnd, A bower so sweet as Mosellay. Oh, when these fair perfidious maids, Whose eyes our secret haunts infest, Their dear destructive charms...breast invades, And robs my wounded soul of rest, As Tatars seize their destined prey. In vain with love our bosoms glow; Can all our tears, can all our... | |
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