XLII

2 0 00

XLII

They sang, whilst negligently seated,

Attentive to the echoing sound,

Tattiana with impatience waited

Until her heart less high should bound⁠—

Till the fire in her cheek decreased;

But tremor still her frame possessed,

Nor did her blushes fade away,

More crimson every moment they.

Thus shines the wretched butterfly,

With iridescent wing doth flap

When captured in a schoolboy’s cap;

Thus shakes the hare when suddenly

She from the winter corn espies

A sportsman who in covert lies.