I.
While on those lovely Looks I gaze,
To see a Wretch pursuing;
In Raptures of a blest Amaze,
His pleasing happy Ruin;
'Tis not for pity that I move;
His Fate is to aspiring,
Whose Heart, broke with a Load of Love,
Dies wishing and admiring.
II.
But if this Murder you'd forego,
Your Slave from Death removing;
Let me your Art of Charming know,
Or learn you mine of loving.
But whether Life, or Death, betide,
In Love it's equal Measure,
The Victor lives with empty Pride;
The Vanquish'd die with Pleasure.