44
Yes; fair she is with ev'ry outward grace
That can delude the heart; true, she is fair—
But inward beauties have, alas! no place
In that fair form, in that bewitching air.
That can delude the heart; true, she is fair—
But inward beauties have, alas! no place
In that fair form, in that bewitching air.
No, treacherous smile, thou can'st no more deceive,
Nor all thy arts my heart again betray;
No more will I again thy wiles believe,
Nor own again the magic of thy sway.
Nor all thy arts my heart again betray;
No more will I again thy wiles believe,
Nor own again the magic of thy sway.
