And what is honour but an empty name?
While Delia scorns, I never can be blest,
Though sounding heralds did my praise proclaim.
Know, lovely charmer, that our ancient sire
Did languish, tho’ in Eden’s fragrant bow’rs;
Till the first nymph bade love his breast inspire,
And by her presence cheer’d the ling’ring hours.
But Adam’s love could never equal mine,
Nor did bright Eve such radient beauty share.
O come, my darling, heart and hand resign,