To Lysander

VII

Without Controul she gazes on that Face,

And all the happy Envyed Night,

In the pleas’d Circle of your fond imbrace:

She takes away the Lovers Right.

VIII

From me she Ravishes those silent hours,

That are by Sacred Love my due;

Whilst I in vain accuse the angry Powers,

That make me hopeless Love pursue.

IX

Adrastes Ears with that dear Voice are blest,

That Charms my Soul at every Sound,

And with those Love-Inchanting Touches prest:

Which I ne’er felt without a Wound.