While he, unskill’d in flatt’ry, did impart,
In flowing strains, the dictates of his heart.
Blind was my passion, long it bore the sway,
Suppress’d at last by the enliv’ning ray
Of Reason wak’d, by some celestial pow’r,
To my relief, in an auspicious hour,
With open’d eyes I did the charmer view;
Deaf to his accents, from his presence flew.
Observe, my precepts are with prudence fraught,
What heart so stubborn would remain untaught?