47

Thy stern and sullen eye, and thy dark brow Chill me, like dew-damps of th' unwholesome Night. My Love, a timorous and tender flower, Closes beneath thy Touch, unkindly man! Breath'd on by gentle gales of Courtesy And cheer'd by sunshine of impassion'd look-- Then opes its petals of no vulgar hues.

p. 826). Compare Osorio, Act. I, ll. 80-3 (ante, p. 522).