The Theft

PERFIDIOUS damsel, with thy dazzling eyes,
Those skill'd enchanters of a sunnier clime,
Thou, thou hast charmed the dragon Reason, couched
Before my soul's Hesperides, and filched
Her fruit of burnished ore-the source itself
From which her splendour sprung -her will, and left-
Yea, naked left her to the winds of woe
And now, while she laments her jewels lost,
With scorn dost hie to mock, to drive afar,
The veriest promise of a summer, would
Again enable her to smile, and with
Her golden apples set the world agape.