LEANDER.
9
And scatter'd pleasing ruin all along.
'Till from the crowd
By love one eloquent above the rest,
In these, or words like these, his soul exprest.
Big with vain hope to Sparta once I came,
Where ev'ry nymph can ev'ry breast inflame:
But never yet have in one virgin seen,
With so much majesty, so sweet a mien.
Who knows, but Venus may some cheat design,
And what we fancy human, is divine:
The Graces much are fam'd, and this must be
Sure the most charming of the charming three.
Weary'd with looking, fain I would be gone,
Yet could (methinks) for ever still look on.
Were death the price, doom'd for the happy night,
Not death should damp one moment of delight:
Nor could th' immortal joys of God above
Engage my wishes, or distract my love.
