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The Fair Singer

by Andrew Marvell (1621 – 1678)

To make a final conquest of all me,

Love did compose so sweet an enemy,

In whom both beauties to my death agree,

Joining themselves in fatal harmony;

That, while she with her eyes my heart does bind,

She with her voice might captivate my mind.

I could have fled from one but singly fair ;

My disentangled soul itself might save,

Breaking the curlèd trammels of her hair ;

But how should I avoid to be her slave,

When subtle art invisibly can wreathe

My fetters of the very air I breathe ?

It had been easy fighting in some plain,

Where victory might hang in equal choice,

But all resistance against her is vain,

Who has the advantage both of eyes and voice;

And all my forces needs must be undone,

She having gained both the wind and sun.

First aired: 9 February 2008

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