Classic Poem

We the White Witches are, that free
Enchanted hearts from slavery;
Love's dark abodes all tremble at our voice,
And at the awful noise
All the blind archers scud along,
And frighted to their shady myrtles throng.
We cloud the sun that shines in Caelia's eyes,
Hush the winds swelled by lovers' sighs,
And stop their tides of tears even when they highest rise.
We, by our magic's guiltless power,
Hearts long since dead to a new life restore.

All Love's black arts and fatal wiles,
How he the heedless wretch beguiles,
How in false smiles the face is dressed,
And how false pity heaves the breast,
Circe's spells, the Sirens' lays,
How one transforms, the other slays,
We open show
To mortal view;
Come love-sick minds, see how the force of charms
The tyrant of his rage disarms.
Yours be the advantage all; for we
Claim naught but th' honour of the victory.