What caps, what slippers silver-laced, Would I on thee bestow! What damask breeches make for thee; What fine long holland cloaks!

And I would give thee pearls that should As big as oak-galls show; So matchless big that each might well Be called the great “Alone.” 814

Manchegan Nero, look not down From thy Tarpeian Rock Upon this burning heart, nor add The fuel of thy wrath.

A virgin soft and young am I, Not yet fifteen years old; (I’m only three months past fourteen, I swear upon my soul).