1

Happy who near you sigh, for you alone
Who hears you speak, or whom you smile upon:
You well for this might scorn a Starry Throne.

2

To this compar'd the Heav'nly Bliss they prove,
No Envy raises; for the Powers a Love
Ne'er tasted, Joys, compar'd to such above.

3

When ere I look on you, through every Vein,
Subtil as Lightning flies the nimble Flame,
I'm all o'er Rapture, while all over Pain.

4

And while my Soul does in these Transports stray,
My Voice disdains to teach my Tongue its way;
Each faculty does now its trust betray.

5

A Cloud of wild Confusion veils my sight,
Sounds vainly strike my Ears, my Eyes the light,
Soft Languishment my Senses disunite.

6

Swift trembling streight o'er all my Body flies,
Life frightned thence, Love dos his place supply,
Disorder'd, Breathless, Pale, and Cold, I die.