would choose to wear;
Her auburn locks in easy tresses play'd,
Now hid her snowy neck, and now betray'd;
No muse can paint what playful zephyr show'd,
Nor tell the charm that modesty bestow'd:
200 Not the stiff airs that prudish virtue arm,
The foes of love, the bane of ev'ry charm:
Sweet, bashful grace, that bends the timid eye,
Spreads o'er the glowing cheek a heav'nly dye,
With soft respect extatic rapture blends,
205 And heavn's pure bliss to Love triumphant lends.

But Love does more: for Love what pow'r can bound?
A charm invincible he calls around,
Their tender boughs enchanted myrtles spread,
Rise thro' the earth and wave their taper head:
210 Deluded mortals seek the tempting shades,
The secret charm their languid sense invades,
Around, a stream in lulling manner flows,
Of deep forgetfulness, of soft repose;
Bound in the chain no more they seek to move;
215 Fame, honor, duty, what are you to Love?
Here all alike the sweet delusion share,
And breathe delicious poison with the air.
All whispers love, the birds on ev'ry spray
Prolong the kiss, and swell the am'rous lay;
220 The hardy swain, who with the peep of dawn,
Jocund and careless sought the russet lawn,
Heaves as he goes involuntary sighs;
Unusual troubles in his breast arise,
Beat in his pulse, his loit'ring feet retain;
225 Neglected lye the treasures of the plain:
The same soft charm the trembling maid deceives,
The herd forgot, the sheaf unbound she leaves.
How could d'Etree with such a pow'r contest!
A god invincible her soul possest.
230 In vain, alas! that fatal day she strove,
With youth, with glory, with her heart and love.
In rain a rising voice in Henry's breast,
Back to his ranks the love-lost hero prest;
A pow'r unseen repell'd the gen'rous thought,
235 His virtue vainly in himself he sought;
His soul empassion'd, deaf to honor's call,
Could hear but love, d'Etree possess'd it all.

Meanwhile his chiefs, impatient on the plain,
His absence mourn'd, and sought their king in vain;
240 A thousand dangers for his life appear'd,
For Henry's fame what danger could be fear'd?
No hope of victory the troops inspir'd,
Lost was their ardor when their chief retir'd.
Still the good genius