You charm'd me not with that fair face By John Dryden

You charm'd me not with that fair face
      Though it was all divine:
To be another's is the grace,
      That makes me wish you mine.

   The Gods and Fortune take their part
      Who like young monarchs fight;
And boldly dare invade that heart
      Which is another's right.

   First mad with hope we undertake
      To pull up every bar;
But once possess'd, we faintly make
      A dull defensive war.

   Now every friend is turn'd a foe
      In hope to get our store:
And passion makes us cowards grow,
      Which made us brave before.

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