Dear Nancy, if you wish to know
What Fate reserves in store for you,
Ask not the idle cards to show,—
I’ll tell as wisely, and as true.
For I will take a magic Book
Of characters divinely fair;
Upon thy lovely Self I’ll look,
And read, dear Girl, thy fortune there.
By those love-darting Eyes I find
How many hearts their empire own;
I see the sweetness of thy mind
That keeps the hearts those eyes have won.
Yet none among so many hearts,
Nor any you shall yet subdue,
Should you join all their better parts,
Can make a heart to merit you.
Now, shall I look into your breast
And see what Heart is favour’d there?—
No,—be that fatal Truth suppress’d,
Lest I should sink in my despair!