Page:Poems upon Several Occasions.djvu/204

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192
The British Enchanters.

Eternal Racks my tortur'd Bosom tear,
Vultures with endless Pangs are gnawing there,
Fury! Distraction! I am all Despair.
Burning with Love, may' thou ne'er aim at Bliss,
But Thunder shake thy Limbs, and Lightning blast thy Kiss,
While pale, aghast, a Spectre I stand by,
Pleas'd at the Terrors that distract thy Joy;
Plague of my Life! thy want of Pow'r shall be
A Curse to her, worse than thy Scorn to me.

[Exit.

CHORUS.


The Battel's done,
Our Wars are over,
The Battel's done,
Let Lawrels crown
The Heads that rugged Steel did cover,
Let Myrtles too
Bring Peace for ever,
Let Myrtles too
Adorn the Brow
That bent beneath the warlike Beaver.
Let Kisses, Embraces,
Dying Eyes, and kind Glances,
Let Kisses, Embraces,
And tender Caresses
Give Warmth to our amorous Trances.

Let