So to be caught was every god’s deſire;
Nor leſs than Venus can Zelinda fire.10
Forgive him then, thou more than heav’nly fair,
Forgive his raſhneſs, puniſh’d by deſpair.
All that we know which wretched mortals feel
In thoſe ſad regions where the tortur’d dwell,
Is that they ſee the raptures of the bleſt,
And view the joys which they muſt never taſte.16
MIRA SINGING.
The Syrens, once deluded, vainly charm’d;
Ty’d to the maſt Ulyſſes ſail’d unharm’d:
Had Mira’s voice entic’d his liſt’ning ear,
The Greek had ſtopp’d, and would have dy’d to hear.
When Mira ſings we ſeek th’ enchanting ſound,5
And bleſs the notes that do ſo ſweetly wound.
What muſic needs muſt dwell upon that tongue
Whoſe ſpeech is tuneful as another’s ſong!
Such harmony, ſuch wit, a face ſo fair,
So many pointed arrows, who can bear?10
Who from her wit or from her beauty flies,
Is with her voice ſhe overtakes him dies.
Like ſoldiers ſo in battle we ſucceed,
One peril ’ſcaping, by another bleed:
In vain the dart or glitt’ring ſword we ſhun,
Condemn’d to periſh by the ſlaught’ring gun.16
