HE surely must be wrong who loving fears; And does not flee when beauty first appears. Ye FAIR, with charms divine, I know your fame; No more I'll burn my fingers in the flame. From you a soft sensation seems to rise, And, to the heart, advances through the eyes; What there it causes I've no need to tell: Some die of love, or languish in the spell. Far better surely mortals here might do; There's no occasion dangers to pursue. By way of proof a charmer I will bring, Whose beauty to a hermit gave the sting: Thence, save the sin, which fully I except; A very pleasant intercourse was kept; Except the sin, again I must repeat, My sentiments on this will never meet The taste of him at Rome, who w…
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