You charm'd me not with that fair face

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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.

© John Dryden