"Laugh on, thou haughty fair, laugh on," he cries,
"Since thou hast kept secure what I have lost!"
"Sure 'tis his heart," thus thought the beauteous maid,
The slumbering love awakening in her breast;
By deepening blush, her inmost heart betrayed,
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Timid, the conscious Chloe stands confessed.
Young Celadon the bashful fair surveys,
And struggling to repress his cruel glee,
He cries, as on his treacherous course he strays,
"I lost, you saw, my centre of gravity."