He saw her charming, but he saw not halfThe charms her downcast modesty conceal'd.
The glad circle round them yield their soulsTo festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall.
With starving labor pampering idle waste;To tear at pleasure the defected land.
'Tis silence all,And pleasing expectation.
There studious let me sit, And hold high converse with the mighty dead.
A lucky chance, that oft decides the fateOf mighty monarchs.
Modesty is that feeling by which honorable shame acquires a valuable and lasting authority.
Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.
On the contrary, modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues.
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