SONG VIII.
Vertue the greater Charm.
I
While on my Breast the soft Deceiver lies,
Balm in her Breath and Transport in her Eyes!
I find the glowing wanton glad my Heart,
Yet know she's false, and all her Fondness Art.
II
For to the next she likes, she does apply
The self same soft'ning Look and kindling Eye;
But 'tis to gratify her own Desire,
She only warms us while we blow the Fire.
III
If she that's faithless has such pow'rful Charms,
What magick Circle might you make your Arms?
No more we'd doubt of Heaven but fix it there,
Were you (O Cælia) but as kind as fair.
