So Innocent those Charms then seem'd, When Rosalinda first I spy'd, Ah! Who would them have deadly deem'd? But Flowrs do often Serpents hide.
Beneath those sweets conceal'd lay, To Love the cruel Foe, Disdain, With which (alas) she does repay My Constant and Deserving Pain.
When I in Tears have spent the Night, With Sighs I usher in the Sun, Who never saw a sadder sight, In all the Courses he has run.
Sleep, which to others Ease does prove, Comes unto me, alas, in vain: For in my Dreams I am in Love, And in them too she does Disdain.
Some times t'Amuse my Sorrow, I Unto the hollow Rocks repair, And loudly to the Eccho cry, Ah! gentle Nimph come ease my Care.
Thou who, times past, a Lover wer't, Ah! pity me, who now am so, And by a sense of thine own smart, Alleviate my Mighty Woe.
Come Flatter then, or Chide my Grief; Catch my last Words, and call me Fool; Or say, she Loves, for my Relief; My Passion either sooth, or School.
Love, the Soul of Poetry.
When first Alexis did in Verse delight, His Muse in Low, but Graceful Numbers walk't, And now and then a little Proudly stalk't; But never aim'd at any noble Flight: The Herds, the Groves, the gentle purling Streams, Adorn'd his Song, and were his highest Theams.