I Often Ask upon Whose Arm She Leans

I often ask upon whose arm she leans,
She whom I dearly love,
And if she visit much the crowded scenes
Where mimic passions move.
There, mighty powers! assert your just controul,
Alarm her thoughtless breast,
Breathe soft suspicion o'er her yielding soul,
But never break its rest.
O let some faithful lover, absent long,
To sudden bliss return;
Then Landor's name shall tremble from her tongue,
Her cheek thro' tears shall burn.