VI.
And every Hour still more unjust you grow,
Those Freedoms you my life deny,
You to Adraste are oblig'd to show,
And give her all my Rifled Joy.
VII.
Without Controul she gazes on that Face,
And all the happy Envyed Night,
In the pleas'd Circle of your fond imbrace:
She takes away the Lovers Right.
VIII.
From me she Ravishes those silent hours,
That are by Sacred Love my due;
Whilst I in vain accuse the angry Powers,
That make me hopeless Love pursue.
IX.
Adrastes Ears with that dear Voice are blest,
That Charms my Soul at every Sound,
And with those Love-Inchanting Touches prest,
Which I ne'er felt without a Wound.
X.
She has thee all: whilst I with silent Greif,
The Fragments of thy Softness feel,
Yet dare not blame the happy licenc'd Thief:
That does my Dear-bought Pleasures steal.