Ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize.
Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.
Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
Take heed lest passion sway Thy judgement to do aught, which else free will Would not admit.
The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.