No more the  of my sight
Can move a  of Delight;
Or force my lingring Blood a swifter pace,
Or Paint new  and  on my Face.
I've rent the  from my heart,
And banisht all from thence that took his part.
No more the  shall tempt me on
To  and  and think my self undone;
Whilst  like some  Torrent unconfin'd,
Breaks in, o'f-spreads, and swallows up my Mind;
And with its black ungrateful streams controul
All the  Rays within my Soul.
No, No: I will, I will no more admire,
And urge the Sparks of the now dormant Fire:
Nor for a wild Fantastick Extasy,
Change the Dear  of this blest Liberty;
Free, as a wandring  through the Air,
Methinks I range, and hate my former Sphear.
I meet the Noblest  yet scorn to pay
A Fond  to well-moulded Clay:
Nor would I even for my late splendid Chain
Forgo this Charming  again;
Which with so sweet a Calmness fill my
As cannot be in Words, no not in thine Exprest.