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Filld with grief for what is past,
Let us at length be wise;
Since we have paid the price.
Love does easy souls despise
for those devise
Love should like the year be crown'd
With sweet variety;
Kind fears, and jealousy.
In the summer, flowers should rise,
And in the autumn, fruit; . His spring doth else but mock our eyes,
And in a scoff salute.
THANKS, fair Urania, to your scorn,
In losing me, proud nymph, you lose
My ranging love did never find
I, unawares, my freedom gave,
Love is a burthen, which two hearts,
I'm not of those who court their pain,
Nor yet of those who, ill receiv'd,
And, where their love could not prevail, Take the vain liberty to rail.
Whoe'er would make his victor less,
Even that malice does betray,
He's still in torment, whom the rage
“ HEARs not my Phillis, how the birds
66 Their feather'd mates salute? They tell their passion in their words ;• Must I alone be mute ?"
Phillis, without frown or smile,
“ The god of love in thy bright eyes
" Does like a tyrant reign; “ But in thy heart a child he lies,
66 Without his dart or flame.". Phillis, &c.
“ So many months in silence past,
" And yet in raging love, “ Might well deserve one word at last
“ My passion should approve." Phillis, &c.
“ Must then your faithful swain expire,
“ And not one look obtain; " Which he, to sooth his fond desire,
“ Might pleasingly explain ?" Phillis, without frown or smile, Sat and knotted all the while.
PHILLIS is my only joy,
Faithless as the winds or seas; Sometimes coming, sometimes coy, Yet she never fails to please.
If with a frown
Though, alas ! too late I find
Nothing can her fancy fix;
Which though I see,