SHE Loves, and she confesses too;|
There's then at last, no more to do.
The happy work's entirely done;
Enter the Town which thou hast won;
The Fruits of Conquest now begin;
Iô Triumph! Enter in.
What's this, ye Gods, what can it be?
Remains there still an Enemie?
Bold Honor stands up in the Gate,
And would yet Capitulate; 10
Have I orecome all real foes,
And shall this Phantome me oppose?
Noisy Nothing! Stalking shade!
By what Witchcraft wert thou made?
Empty cause of Solid harms!
But I shall find out Counter-charms
Thy airy Devi'lship to remove
From this Circle here of Love.
Sure I shall rid my self of Thee
By the Nights obscurity, 20
And obscurer secresie.
Unlike to every other spright,
Thou attempt'st not men t'affright,
Nor appear'st but in the Light.