Still flashing, and still changing,
Attemper'd soft and bright,
Through each expression ranging,
From pity to delight.

From high or zealous feeling,
From arch, excursive grace,
From all with which a lovely mind
Endows the human face.

Perhaps a new and careless eye
May not those beauties see,
And wonder to behold the power
Belinda has with me.

The spell which holds this captive soul
She never would possess,
Were not her varying features rul'd
By sparkling playfulness,

But when with aimless, trackless skill
Is twin'd a mazy chain,
In the warm foldings of a heart,
Perforce it must remain.




VII.