388 THE POEMS OF ANNE �I see 'tis Love, the best of all our Passions. �And fram'd like Thee ; sure none cou'd e'er Despair, �Nor can I fear thou'd'st make a vulgar Choice. �Aristor. On Jda's Top not Paris made a nobler, When of three Goddesses he chose the Fairest. �Aristom. Will she not hear thy Love ? �Aristor. Oh yes ! with all the softness of her Sex, And answers it with Vows, more strong than Ours. �Aristom. If thus it be, what hast thou then to fear? 240 �Aristor. A Father's Wrath, more dreadful to Aristor Than is the frown of Jove, that shakes the Poles, And makes the Gods forget they are Immortal. �Aristom. Thou wrong'st my Love in that mistaken Terror. By all those Powers I swear, I will not cross thee ; Be she a Spartan Dame, 'bate me but One, And tho' a Foe, I yield thou shou'd'st possess her. �Aristor. I dare not ask ; my trembling Love forbids it. Who is that One, so fatally excepted ? �Aristom. Then, I'll by telling thee prevent that Trouble. It is the Tyrant Anaxander's Daughter, 251 �Whom, tho' I ne'er beheld, I must abhor, As borrowing her Blood from such a Fountain. �Aristor. Take mine, my Lord, then to wash out that Stain [Offers his Breast. �You'll think it has contracted by her Love: For 'tis that Tyrant's Daughter I adore, And ne'er, while Life is here, will change my Purpose. �Aristom. Confusion seize those Words, and Her that caus'd �'em! �Not Groans of Earthquakes, or the Burst of Thunder, The Voice of Storms urging the dang'rous Billows, 260 E'er struck the Sense with sounds of so much Horror. It must not, Oh! it must not, shall not be: Sooner this Dagger, tho' my Soul lives in thee, �[Draii-ing Amalintha's Dagger. ��� �
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