To the old, long life and treasure;
To the young, all health and pleasure;
To the fair, their face
With eternal grace;
And the soul to be loved at leisure.
To the witty, all clear mirrors,
To the foolish, their dark errors;
To the loving sprite,
A secure delight:
To the jealous, his own false terrors.
(from The Gypsies Metamorphosed)
To the young, all health and pleasure;
To the fair, their face
With eternal grace;
And the soul to be loved at leisure.
To the witty, all clear mirrors,
To the foolish, their dark errors;
To the loving sprite,
A secure delight:
To the jealous, his own false terrors.
(from The Gypsies Metamorphosed)
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