I slept, as duller Mortals use, Without the Musick of a Thought, When by a gentle Breath, soft as thy Muse, Thy Name to my glad Ear was brought: _Amyntas_! cry’d the Page--And at the Sound, My list’ning Soul unusual Pleasure found. So the Harmonius _Spheres_ surprize, Whilst the All-Ravish’d _Shepherd_ gazes round, And wonders whence the Charms should rise, That can at once both please and wound. Whilst trembling I unript the _Seal_ Of what you’d sent, My Heart with an Impatient Zeal, Without my Eyes, would needs reveal Its Bus’ness and Intent. But so beyond the _Sence_ they were Of ev’ry scribling Lovers common Art, That now I find an equal share Of Love and Admiration in my Heart. And while I read, in vain I strove To hide the Pleasure which I took; _Bellario_ saw in ev’ry Look My smiling Joy and blushing Love. Soft ev’ry word, easie each Line, and true; Brisk, witty, manly, strong and gay; The Thoughts are tender all, and new, And Fancy ev’ry where does gently play, _Amyntas_, if you thus go on, Like an unwearied Conqueror day and night, The World at last must be undone. You do not only kill at sight, But like a _Parthian_ in your flight, Whether you Rally or Retreat, You still have Arrows for Defeat. _To my Lady_ Morland _at_ Tunbridge.