Though plenty replenish’d my board,
I fasted and feasted on love.
My couch but augmented my pain;
No sleep ever closed my eyes;
One glance of my rustic young swain
Was what I more highly did prize.
None ever bemoan’d my sad case;
They laugh’d at the ills I endur’d;
But time did my sorrows efface,
And spite of the imp I was cur’d.