48
AMYNTAS.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
The SATYR alone.
SMALL is the bee, yet sorely doth it wound;
It shoots a cruel, agonizing sting.
Yet Love is less; 'tis imperceptible.
In charming, though diminutive retreats,
The little tyrant takes his deadly aim.
Oft does he lurk beneath an eye-brow's arch,
And there he kills us with the visual ray,
That animated passage of the soul:
Couched in a flowing lock of golden hair,
From that soft ambush oft the subtle urchin
Peeps out, and deals an unexpected death.
Oft doth he ply his arrows from a dimple;
And from that covert, seemingly the seat
It shoots a cruel, agonizing sting.
Yet Love is less; 'tis imperceptible.
In charming, though diminutive retreats,
The little tyrant takes his deadly aim.
Oft does he lurk beneath an eye-brow's arch,
And there he kills us with the visual ray,
That animated passage of the soul:
Couched in a flowing lock of golden hair,
From that soft ambush oft the subtle urchin
Peeps out, and deals an unexpected death.
Oft doth he ply his arrows from a dimple;
And from that covert, seemingly the seat
Of
