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62 So shone the Nymph, and prankt in Pleasures guize With wylie traines the Sonnes of Earth besett; Goodnesse of Heart before her yawns and dies, And Friendship ever feels the drowsie fitt Just when its powre to serve could serve a whitt. And still behind her march and , That never will their yron scourge remitt, Whenso the Fiend resigns her thralls to them: Sad case, I weet, where still Oneselfe Oneselfe must blame.

Long had the Knight to her his powres resignd; In wanton dalliance first her nett she spred, And soon in mirthfull tumult on his mind She softlie stole: yet, while at times he sped To Contemplations bowre, his sight she fled; Ne on the mountainett with him durst bide; Yet homewards still she mett him in the glade, And in the social cup did slily glide, And still his best resolves eftsoons she scatterd wide.