THE MISANTHROPE. AT first awhile sits he, With calm, unruffled brow; His features then I see, Distorted hideously,-- An owl's they might be now. What is it, askest thou? Is't love, or is't ennui? 'Tis both at once, I vow. 1767-9.
AT first awhile sits he,
With calm, unruffled brow; His features then I see, Distorted hideously,--
An owl's they might be now.
What is it, askest thou? Is't love, or is't ennui?
'Tis both at once, I vow.
1767-9.