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You Charm’D Me Not With That Fair Face

You charm’d me not with that fair face
    Though it was all divine:
  To be another’s is the grace,
    That makes me wish you mine.
 
   The Gods and Fortune take their part
    Who like young monarchs fight;
  And boldly dare invade that heart
    Which is another’s right.
 
   First mad with hope we undertake
   To pull up every bar;
 But once possess’d, we faintly make
   A dull defensive war.
 
  Now every friend is turn’d a foe
   In hope to get our store:
 And passion makes us cowards grow,
   Which made us brave before.
Autres oeuvres par John Dryden...



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