To Amasia ("What can I think; can")

What can I think; can nothing, nothing move?
Is there no way, no […] to gain your Love?
As Men in Vessels beaten by a Storm,
By Winds and Waves, and all that fear can form,
Look often back for the forsaken shore,
But that long lost, tho' loud the Billows roar,
Plow up amain the Seas, for passage o'er.
So wish I oft I had not told my pain,
Wish what I told cou'd be untold again,
All I declar'd, since it was all in vain.
Then strugling Passions in my Mind revolve,
Resolv'd to move thee, but in vain resolve.
In spight of Winds, in spight of Waves I'll on,
I can at worst, be, as I am, undone.
Roar on ye Bolts of Thunder from the Sky,
And at my Head broad Sheets of light'ning fly.
Burst, ye charg'd Clouds, hurl fast your Burthens down,
I rage with scorching Fires ye cannot drown,
Fall thick, and save me from Amasia's frown.
Your scorn alone my Breast with trembling moves,
He cannot, no, he cannot fear, who Loves.
Once with your presence blest — but once — kind Heav'n!
Thanks for that once, my humblest Thanks are giv'n.
With beating Heart, and melting Eyes I came,
Catch'd, at each step, and every Glance, new Flame,
Saw all the Charms that fancy rack'd can frame.
Slowly with mingled Love and awe approach'd,
Stood, and gaz'd on, but never, never touch'd.
Tortur'd at once with Pleasure, and with pain,
Smoth'ring my Sighs, for I had sigh'd in vain.
Fast to my Face flush'd up my Mantling Blood,
I stood — O would I had for ever stood.
Chang'd, as Romantick Lovers were of old,
I seem'd enchanted in some Charming hold,
The place show'd Paradise —
And you look'd form'd of an Angelick mould.
As Men in Pangs and Agonies of Death,
With Tremulous LipsCatch thick at parting breath;
So, but with greater pangs your Sylvius strove,
And scarce, ah! scarce could speak those Words — I Love.
Seated, at distance far, far off, with shame,
And down-cast looks I told you why I came.
My business known, you put resentment on,
And seem'd to bid me, with your looks, be gone.
I […] go, or I had then obey'd,
[…], oft murmur'd that I stay'd.
[…] go without one smile away?
Why did I move at all? —
Fool that I was, I did not ever stay!
O that those Minutes were so quickly past!
O that those Minutes could not Ages last!
Our pains remain —
But ah! our fleeting Pleasures fly too fast.