But still _Love_ importun’d, nor cou’d I rest, So often, and impatiently he prest, That I the lovely Virgin wou’d invite, To the so worshipp’d _Temple of Delight_. By all the Lovers Arts I strove to move, And watch the softest Minutes of her Love, Which against all my Vows and Prayers were proof. Alas she lov’d, but did not love enough: And I cou’d no returns but Anger get, Her Heart was not intirely conquer’d yet; For liking, I mistook her Complysance, And that for Love; when ‘twas her Confidence. But ‘twas not long my Sighs I did imploy, Before she rais’d me to the height of Joy. And all my Fears and Torments to remove, Yields I shall lead her to the _Court of LOVE_. Here, _Lysidas_, thou thinks me sure and blest, With Recompence for all my past unrest; But fortun’d smil’d the easier to betray, She’s less inconstant than a Lover’s Joy: For whilst our Chariot Wheels out-stript the Wind, Leaving all thought of Mortal Cares behind, Whilst we sate gazing full of new surprize, Exchanging Souls from eithers darting Eyes, We encounter’d _One_ who seem’d of great Command, Who seiz’d the Reins with an all-pow’rful hand: Awful his looks, but rude in his Address, And his Authority roughly did express; His violent Hands he on _Aminta_ laid, And out of mine snatch’d the dear trembling Maid; So suddenly as hinder’d my defence, And she cou’d only say in parting thence, _Forgive_, Lisander, _what by force I do,_ _Since nothing else can ravish me from you;_ _Make no resistance, I obey_ [5]Devoir. _Who values not thy Tears, thy Force or Prayer,_ _Retain thy Faith and Love Aminta still,_ _Since she abandons thee against her Will._ Immoveable I remain’d with this surprize, Nor durst reply so much as with my Eyes. I saw her go, but was of Sense bereav’d, And only knew from what I heard, I liv’d; Yes, yes, I heard her last Commands, and thence By violent degrees retriev’d my Sense. Ye Gods, in this your Mercy was severe, You might have spar’d the useless favour here. But the first Thoughts my Reason did conceive, Were to pursue the injurious Fugitive. Raving, that way I did my haste direct, But once more met the Reverend _Respect_, From whom I strove my self to dis-ingage, And faign’d a calmness to disguise my Rage. In vain was all the Cheat, he soon perceiv’d, Spight of my Smiles, how much, and why I griev’d; Saw my despairs, and what I meant to do, And begg’d I wou’d the rash Design forego; A thousand dangers he did represent, T’ win me from the desperate attempt. I ever found his Counsel just and good, And now resolv’d it shou’d not be withstood; Thus he ore-came my Rage, but did not free, My Soul from Griefs more painful Tyranny; Grief tho’ more soft, did not less cruel prove,