impatient grew:
he wrote, and hinted for excuse,
'twas, 'cause “he'd nothing else to do.”
but by those hopes i have above!
and by those faults i dearly rue!
the deed, the boldest mark of love,
for thee that deed i dare uo do!
o could the fates but he price
would bless me with your charms and you!
with frantic joy i'd pay it thrice,
if human art and power could do!
then take, da, friendship's hand,
(friendship, at least, i may avow;)
and y no more your chill and,—
i'll write whatever i've to do.