But yet I ’m fall’n into Extravagance.
And now methinks ’tis time that I had done,
But I ’ve no Pow’r to end these Lines so soon,
Nor force the pleasing Vision from my Sight;
My lovely Charmer’s present while I write.
{Twelve solitary Months are almost past
{Since in your trembling Arms you held me last,
{And fondly, to my Ruin, me embrac’d.
Fierce, and true as mine, I thought your Flame,
And, oh! believ’d ’twould always be the same.