I.
WHILE cruel to your wishing slave,
You still refuse the boon I crave,
Confess, what joy that precious pearl
Conveys to thee, my lovely girl?
II.
Dost thou not act the miser's part,
Who with an aching, lab'ring heart,
Counts the dull joyless shining store,
Which he refuses to the poor?
III.
Confess then, my too lovely maid,
Nor blush to see thy thoughts betray'd;
What, parted with, gives heav'n to me;
Kept, is but pain and grief to thee.
IV.
Be charitable then, and dare
Bestow the treasure you can spare;
And trust the joys which you afford
Will to yourself be sure restor'd.