Classic Poem

While fair Pastora sat with me
Beneath a shady myrtle tree,
My warbling muse in sweetest lays
Sung my passion and her praise,

Till the divine seraphick lyre
Set her glowing breast on fire;
Raptur'd she heard th'enchanting strains,
And vow'd she lov'd me 'bove all swains.

But young Endymion brought his lute
Which struck my muse, my numbers mute;
No more she lik'd my late lov'd song,
But wish'd she might sit all day long
To hear the blest Endymion.

Thus musick drew her soul away;
Enchanting musick won the day.