Lady, the arrow tho’ aim’d ne’er so well
Directed “to his Heart” enslav’d before
Must doubtless in its wily errand fail
For love has enter’d and secur’d the door,
Here in this circle, sits the chosen fair
Seeming unconscious of her sov’reign pow’r
She, will my humble Dulce Domum share
For her alone I’ll deck the nuptial bow’r.
The Fort that stands on Dover’s height
Is hidden by the shades of night,
So is the cot below,
And seven days must twice be told
E’re we again the Chest behold
Of genius mischief — the dépôt.