sweetnessAh! one moment's pause—I have renounced poetry, of which, sweet lady, you were to me the embodied spirit. I know flattery is impertinent, and praise is vain—yet I cannot pass the shrine of my early faith, and not at least fling a flower on it in passing: I never yet beheld being so lovely—and I never shall again; I never witnessed feelings so generous, so unspotted by the world; and my words seem unworthy and imperfect, when I say of her heart, as some early Spanish poet said of his mistress's face—
"That it has looked in Paradise, and caught
Its early beauty."
"Look," said Lorraine—"do you wish to see the very vainest man in England?"
"A bold assertion," added Mr. Morland, "but a true one; for yonder gentleman is morally, mentally, personally, and politically vain."
Emily turned towards him—there was nothing conspicuous about him but the buttons of his coat; many and bright were they, with some hieroglyphic sign impressed upon them.
"One of our first poets, he has
'Narrowed his mind,
And to parties given up what was meant for mankind.'
