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beauty, siren! kept with Circe's rod;

The fairest good in seem but foulest ill;

The sweetest plague ordained for man by God,

The pleasing subject of presumptuous will;

Th' alluring object of unstayèd eyes;

Friended of all, but unto all a foe;

The dearest thing that any creature buys,

And vainest too, it serves but for a show;

In seem a heaven, and yet from bliss exiling;

Paying for truest service nought but pain;

Young men's undoing, young and old beguiling;

Man's greatest loss though thought his greatest gain!

True, that all this with pain enough I prove;

And yet most true, I will Fidessa love.