The more his charms, the surer he’ll succeed
’Mong pow’rful rivals, whom you now may dread.
ALMEDA.
I know his charms the gentlest dame might move,
But he’ll admit no rival in his love:
My image still remains within his breast,
True to that hour I first my love confest.
This pleasing hope will soothe my anxious soul,
Nor let stern care its peaceful sway controul,
Diffuse into my heart its soft relief,