Hung Over Her Enamour'd, And

Implied Subjection, But Requir'd With Gentle Sway, And By Her Yielded, By Him Best Receiv'd,- Yielded With Coy Submission, Modest Pride, And Sweet, Reluctant, Amorous Delay.

God Made Thee Perfect, Not Immutable.

Lifted Up So High I Disdained Subjection, And Thought One Step Higher Would Set Me Highest.

And These Gems Of Heav'n, Her Starry Train.

But Oh The Heavy Change, Now Thou Art Gone, Now Thou Art Gone And Never Must Return!