THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS.
31
The light'ning flies, the thunder roars,
And big waves lash the fright'ned shoars.
Struck with the horror of the sight,
She turns her head and wings her flight,
And trembling, vows she ne'er again
Will press the shore or see the main.
Look back at least once more, said I,
Thy self in that great glass descry;
When thou art in good humour drest,
When gentle reason rules thy breast,
The sun upon the calmest sea
Appears not half so bright as thee;
'Tis then that with delight I rove
Upon the boundless depth of love;
I bless my chain, I hand my oar,
Nor think on all I left on shore.
But when vain doubts and groundless fear,
Do that dear foolish bosom tear,
