And I the force of all their precepts find;
By them inspir’d, above dull earth I soar,
And scorn those trifles which I priz’d before.
39. Song
Why, Damon, why, why, why so pressing?
The heart you beg’s not worth possessing:
Each look, each word, each smile’s affected,
And inward charms are quite neglected;
Then scorn her, scorn her, foolish swain,
And sigh no more, no more, in vain;