Albanio

Methought, or frolic fancy must delight With false presentments to deceive my sight, I saw a wood-nymph, gliding through the groves, Reach the near fountain; haply, if she loves, She may advise me of some charm, may name Some dear deceit to ease this painful flame: No given advice but aggravates my grief, If 'tis in discord with my own belief, And to the hopeless harm can none accrue: Oh holy Gods! what is it that I view? Is it a phantom changed into the form Of her whose beauty makes my blood run warm? No, 'tis herself, Camilla, sleeping here; It must be she—her beauty makes it clear! But one such wonder Nature wished to make, Then broke the die for admiration's sake. How could I then suppose her not the same, When Nature's self no second such can frame! But now, though certain is the bliss displayed, How shall I venture to awake the maid, Dreading the light that lures me to her side? And yet—if only for the pleasing pride Of touching her, methinks that I might shake This fear away; but what if she should wake? To seize and not to loose her—soft! I fear That daring act might make her more austere; Yet, what is to be done? I wish to reach My former seat beneath the shady beech, And hers is slumber deep as death; she lies, How beautifully blind! the bee that flies Near her, the quarrelling birds, that old sweet tune Hummed by the spring, all voices of the noon Tease, but disturb her not; her face is free— A charming book—to be perused by me, And I will seize the' occasion; if the boughs In being parted should from slumber rouse, Strong to detain her I am still, though not As when we last were seated on this spot: Oh hands, once vigorously disposed to end me! See you how much your power can now befriend me? Why not exert it for my welfare!—small The risk—one effort will suffice for all.