What means this Knot, in Mystick Order Ty’d, And which no Humane Knowledge can divide? Not with Great Conqu’rours Sword can this undo Whose very Beauty would divert the Blow. 5 Bright Relique! Shrouded in a Shrine of Gold! Less Myst’ry made a Deity of Old. Fair Charmer! Tell me by what pow’rful Spell You into this Confused Order fell? If Magick could be wrought on things Divine, 10 Some Amorous Sybil did thy Form design In some soft hour, which the Prophetick Maid In Nobler Mysteries of Love employ’d, Wrought thee a Hieroglyphick, to express The wanton God in all his Tenderness; 15 Thus shaded, and thus all adorn’d with Charms, Harmless, Unfletch’d, without Offensive Arms, He us’d of Old in shady Groves to Play, E’er Swains broke Vows, or Nymphs were vain and coy, Or Love himself had Wings to fly away. 20 Or was it (his Almighty Pow’r to prove) Design’d a Quiver for the God of Love? And all these shining Hairs which th’inspir’d Maid Has with such strange Mysterious Fancy laid, Are meant his Shafts; the subt’lest surest Darts 25 That ever Conqu’red or Secur’d his Hearts; Darts that such tender Passions do convey, Not the young Wounder is more soft than they. ’Tis so; the Riddle I at last have learn’d: But found it when I was too far concern’d.