To THEODORE'S intent IANTHE blind,
Sought for instruction from his well stor'd mind:
Her heart, for pure affections finely fram'd,
Seem'd torpid when its tributes were unclaim'd;
Unconscious of the flame which burnt his heart,
With him she strays, her opening thoughts t' impart:
And as he hears, beneath his shadowy brow
His eyes drank love, and swelling features glow.