Poetry Archives

You charm’d me not with that fair face
    Though it was all divine:
To be another’s is the grace,
    That makes me wish you mine.

  The Gods and Fortune take their part
    Who like young monarchs fight;
And boldly dare invade that heart
    Which is another’s right.

  First mad with hope we undertake
    To pull up every bar;
But once possess’d, we faintly make
    A dull defensive war.

  Now every friend is turn’d a foe
    In hope to get our store:
And passion makes us cowards grow,
    Which made us brave before.