To natures nobler than the ones we bring,
To keep entire the fire we cannot chill.
IX.
Coyest of nymphs, my Lady! whom I seek
As sailors seek salvation out at sea,
And poets fame, and soldiers victory,
Behold! I note the blush upon thy cheek,
The flag of truce that tells me thou art meek
And soon wilt yield thy fortress up to me.
X.