To Amasia, who, while I awfully admir'd her at her Window, withdrew, and sent a Black in her place

Long stood I gazing where my Fair was plac't,
While my bright Sun shone radiant in the East,
And Beams Divine fir'd all my ravish'd breast.
Then, like adoring Persians, often bow'd,
But the gay Vision fled, the Sky was all a Cloud.

Persist not thus delusively severe,
Let not for ever smoak pursue the Fair,
Nor when Heaven vanishes, let Hell appear;
Whilst thus you vanquish me, your Conquests prove,
You triumph here in horror, not in Love.