Thomas Otway.

1652-1685

430   The Enchantment

I DID but look and love awhile,
   ’Twas but for one half-hour;
Then to resist I had no will,
   And now I have no power.

To sigh and wish is all my ease;
   Sighs which do heat impart
Enough to melt the coldest ice,
   Yet cannot warm your heart.

O would your pity give my heart
   One corner of your breast,
’Twould learn of yours the winning art,
   And quickly steal the rest.