The  of  now exerts his Arts,
And wins (oh shameful Chance!) the  of
At this, the Blood the Virgin's Cheek forsook,
A livid Paleness spreads o'er all her Look;
She sees, and trembles at th' approaching Ill,
Just in the Jaws of Ruin, and
And now, (as oft in some distemper'd State)
On one nice  depends the gen'ral Fate,
An  of Hearts steps forth: The  unseen
Lurk'd in her Hand, and mourn'd his captive
He springs to Vengeance with an eager pace,
And falls like Thunder on the prostrate
The Nymph exulting fills with Shouts the Sky,
The Walls, the Woods, and long Canals reply.