Samuel Taylor Coleridge

“ The fair one’s eyes danc’d pleasure at the sounds.
Nought now remain’d but ‘‘Noes’’ — how little meant!
And the sweet coyness that endears consent.
The youth upon his knees enraptur’d fell:
The strange misfortune, oh! what words can tell?
Tell! ye neglected sylphs! who lap-dogs guard,
Why snatch’d ye not away your precious ward?
Why suffer’d ye the lover’s weight to fall
On the ill-fated neck of much-lov’d Ball?
The favourite on his mistress casts his eyes,
Gives a short melancholy howl, and — dies. ”