Henry Fielding

“ The wretch who is sentenced to die May escape, and leave justice behind; From his country perhaps he may fly, But oh! can he fly from his mind?
O rapture! unthought of before, To be thus of Chloe possess'd; Nor she, nor no tyrant's hard power, Her image can tear from my breast. But felt not Narcissus more joy, With his eyes he beheld his loved charms? Yet what he beheld the fond boy More eagerly wish'd in his arms.
How can it thy dear image be Which fills thus my bosom with woe? Can aught bear resemblance to thee Which grief and not joy can bestow? ”

“ A thousand Loves dance in her train, The Graces around her all throng. To meet her soft Zephyrus flies, And wafts all the sweets from the flowers, Ah, rogue I whilst he kisses her eyes, More sweets from her breath he devours. ”

“ My soul, whilst I gaze, is on fire: But her looks were so tender and kind, My hope almost reach'd my desire, And left lame despair far behind. Transported with madness, I flew, And eagerly seized on my bliss ”