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You charm'd me not with that fair face Though it was all divine: To be another's is the grace, That makes me wish you mine. The Gods and Fortune take their part Who like young monarchs fight; And boldly dare invade that heart Which is another's right. First mad with hope we undertake To pull up every bar; But once possess'd, we faintly make A dull defensive war. Now every friend is turn'd a foe In hope to get our store: And passion makes us cowards grow, Which made us brave before.
John Dryden’s other poems:
- A Song (High State and Honours to others impart)
- On the Monument of the Marquis of Winchester
- Epitaph on Sir Palmes Fairborne’s Tomb in Westminster Abbey
- Epitaph on a Nephew in Catworth Church, Huntingdonshire
- To John Hoddesdon, on his Divine Epigrams
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