Poem by John Dryden

The Fair Stranger. A Song

Happy and free, securely blest,
No beauty could disturb my rest;
My amorous heart was in despair
To find a new victorious fair:
Till you, descending on our plains,
With foreign force renew my chains;
Where now you rule without control,
The mighty sovereign of my soul.
Your smiles have more of conquering charms,
Than all your native country's arms;
Their troops we can expel with ease,
Who vanquish only when we please.
But in your eyes, O! there's the spell!
Who can see them, and not rebel?
You make us captives by your stay;
Yet kill us if you go away. 

1. Te Deum
2. Epitaph on a Nephew in Catworth Church, Huntingdonshire
3. Upon Young Mr. Rogers, of Gloucestershire
4. Epitaph on Sir Palmes Fairborne's Tomb in Westminster Abbey
5. On Mrs. Margaret Paston, of Barningham, in Norfolk

Print

1720 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version