Yet still on his Phyllis his hopes were all placed,
That her vows were so firm they could ne’er be effaced;
But soon she convinced him ’twas all a mere joke,
For duty rose up, and her vows were all broke.
Dear ladies, avoid one indelible stain,
Excuse me, I beg, if my verse is too plain;
But a jilt is the devil, as has long been confessed,
Which a heart like poor Colin’s must ever detest.
We only give three verses of the eleven, being as much, we think, as our readers could submit to with patience.