Page:National Ballad and Song (1897), vol. 5.djvu/119

 Her Bright Eyes sweet, and yet severe,
 Where Love and Shame confus’dly strive,
 Fresh Vigor to Lysander give;
 And breathing faintly in his Ear,
 She cry’d—Cease, Cease—your vain Desire,
 Or I’ll call out—What would you do?
 My Dearer Honour ev’n to You
 I cannot, must not give—Retire,
 Or take this Life, whose chiefest part
I gave you with the Conquest of my Heart.

 But he as much unus’d to Fear,
 As he was capable of Love,
 The blessed minutes to improve,
 Kisses her Mouth, her Neck, her Hair;
 Each Touch her new Desire Alarms,
 His burning trembling Hand he prest
 Upon her swelling Snowy Brest,
 While she lay panting in his Arms.
 All her unguarded Beauties lie
The Spoils and Trophies of the Enemy.

 And now without Respect or Fear,
 He seeks the Object of his Vows,
 (His Love no Modesty allows)
 His swift degrees advancing—where
 His daring Hand that Altar seiz’d,
 Where Gods of Love do Sacrifice:
 That Awful Throne, the Paradice