Gone is the Tyrant, slighting all thy Charms,
And longs to languish in another’s Arms.
In vain you weep, in vain you sigh and mourn,
For he will never, never more return.
To fly from thee, he left his Downy Ease,
And scorn’d the Dangers of the raging Seas.
In France, dissolv’d in Pleasures, now he lies,
And for new Beauties every moment dies;
{The Joys which once he with such Ardour sought
{Are now (alas!) all vanish’d and forgot;