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.
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