A SONG.
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LAurinda, who did love Disdain,
For whom had languish’d many a Swain:
Leading her bleating Flocks to drink,
She ’spy’d upon a River’s brink
A Youth, whose Eyes did well declare,
How much he lov’d, but lov’d not her.
At first she laugh’d, but gaz’d a while,
Which soon it lessen’d to a smile;
Thence to Surprize and Wonder came,
Her Breast to heave, her Heart to flame:
Then cry’d she out, Ah! now I prove
Thou art a God most mighty Jove.
She would have spoke, but shame deny’d,
And bid her first consult her Pride;
But soon she found that aid was gone,
For Jove, alass! had left her none:
Ah! now she burns! but ’tis too late,
For in his Eyes she reads her Fate.
A SONG.
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