118 THE POEMS OF ANNE �And at his Feet was our Elpino set. �Ev'n humble Me their Harmony inspir'd, �My Breast expanded, and my Spirits fir'd. �Rude Past'ral now, no longer I rehearse, �But Heroes crown with my exalted Verse. �Of Arms I sung, of bold advent' rous Wars; 100 �And tho' brought back by my too envious Stars, �Yet kept my Voice and Reed those lofty Strains, �And sent loud Musick through the wond'ring Plains: �Which Mopsus hearing, secretly malign'd, �And now to ruin Both at once design'd. �Which by his Sorceries he soon brought to pass ; �And suddenly so clogg'd, and hoarse I was, �That all our Shepherds, at the Change amaz'd, �Believ'd, I on some Evening- Wolf had gaz'd: �When He it was, my luckless Path had crost, 110 �By whose dire Look, my Skill awhile was lost. �This have I told, to raise thy Hopes again, �And render, by distrust, his Malice vain. �FROM THE AMINTA OF TASSO �Tho' we, of small Proportion see And slight the armed Grolden Bee; Yet if her Sting behind she leaves, No Ease th' envenom'd Flesh receives. Love, less to Sight than is this Fly, In a soft Curl conceal'd can lie; Under an Eyelid's lovely Shade, Can form a dreadful Ambuscade ; Can the most subtil Sight beguile Hid in the Dimples of a Smile. But if from thence a Dart he throw, How sure, how mortal is the Blow! How helpless all the Pow'r of Art To bind, or to restore the Heart ! ��� �
