And now without Respect or Fear, He seeks the Object of his Vows, (His Love no Modesty allows) By swift degrees advancing--where His daring Hand that Altar seiz’d, Where Gods of Love do sacrifice: That Awful Throne, that Paradice Where Rage is calm’d, and Anger pleas’d; That Fountain where Delight still flows, And gives the Universal World Repose. VI. Her Balmy Lips encount’ring his, Their Bodies, as their Souls, are joyn’d; Where both in Transports Unconfin’d Extend themselves upon the Moss. _Cloris_ half dead and breathless lay; Her soft Eyes cast a Humid Light, Such as divides the Day and Night; Or falling Stars, whose Fires decay: And now no signs of Life she shows, But what in short-breath’d Sighs returns and goes. VII. He saw how at her Length she lay; He saw her rising Bosom bare; Her loose thin _Robes_, through which appear A Shape design’d for Love and Play; Abandon’d by her Pride and Shame. She does her softest Joys dispence, Off’ring her Virgin-Innocence A Victim to Loves Sacred Flame; While the o’er-Ravish’d Shepherd lies Unable to perform the Sacrifice. VIII. Ready to taste a thousand Joys, The too transported hapless Swain Found the vast Pleasure turn’d to Pain; Pleasure which too much Love destroys The willing Garments by he laid, And Heaven all open’d to his view. Mad to possess, himself he threw On the Defenceless Lovely Maid. But Oh what envying God conspires To snatch his Power, yet leave him the Desire! IX. _Nature’s Support_, (without whose Aid She can no Humane Being give) It self now wants the Art to live; Faintness its slack’ned Nerves invade: In vain th’ inraged Youth essay’d To call its fleeting Vigor back, No motion ‘twill from Motion take; Excess of Love his Love betray’d: In vain he Toils, in vain Commands The Insensible fell weeping in his Hand. X. In this so Amorous Cruel Strife, Where Love and Fate were too severe, The poor _Lysander_ in despair Renounc’d his Reason with his Life: Now all the brisk and active Fire That should the Nobler Part inflame, Serv’d to increase his Rage and Shame, And left no Spark for New Desire: Not all her Naked Charms cou’d move Or calm that Rage that had debauch’d his Love. XI.