Chapter XII

The Monsters fled for fear,
The Terrors of the Cursed Wood
Dismantl'd were, and where they stood,
No longer did appear.
The Gentle Pow'r, which wrought this thing,
_Eudora_ was, who thus did sing.
_Dissolv'd is_ Cloris _spell,
From whence thy Evils fell,
Send her this Clue,
'Tis there most due
And thy Phantastick Hell_.

Upon a Little Lady

_Under the Discipline of an Excellent Person_.