Beauty and rigour

THE nymph that undoes me is fair and unkind, No less than a wonder by nature designed; She's the grief of my heart, and the joy of my eye, And the cause of a flame that never can die. And the cause, &c.

Her mouth, from whence wit still obligingly flows, Has the beautiful blush, and the smell of the rose: Love and destiny both attend on her will, She wounds with a look, with a frown she can kill.

The desperate lover can hope no redress, Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess; In Silvia they meet, so unhappy am I, Who sees her must love, who loves her must die.