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Such moving sounds from such a gentle touch, So little she concerned? and we so much. The bumbling strings about her fingers crowd?, And till their joy, for every unclear, aloud. Small force thou needs to make them unclear, Touch’d by that hand who would not tremble too? Here? love takes stand and, while she charms the ear. Empties his quiver on the listening? deer. Musick so softens and disarms the mind, That not one arrow can resistance find. Thus the fair tyrant? unclear the prize And acts herself the triumph of her eyes. Lo, Nero? once with harp? in hand survey’d His flaming Rome, and, while it burn’d, he play’d