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Song LXXII., pp.324-325.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

YOU may cease to complain, 

For your suit is in vain, 

All attempts you can make 

But augments her disdain; 

She bids you give over 

While ‘tis in your power, 

For except her esteem 

She can grant you no more: 

Her heart has been long since 

Assaulted and won, 

Her truth is as lasting 

And firm as the sun; 

You’ll find it more easy 

Your passion to cure, 

Than for ever those fruitless 

Endeavours endure. 


You may give this advice 

To the wretched and wise, 

But a lover like me 

Will those precepts despise; 

I scorn to give over 

Were it in my power; 

Tho’ esteem were deny’d me, 

Yet her I’ll adore, 

A heart that’s been touch’d 

Will some simpathy bear, 

‘Twill lessen my sorrows 

If she takes a share; 

I’ll count it more honour 

In dying her slave, 

Than did her affections 

The steddiness crave. 


You may tell her I’ll be 

Her true lover, tho’ she 

Should mankind despise 

Out of hatred to me; 

‘Tis mean to give o’er 

Cause we get no reward, 

She lost not her worth 

When I lost her regard; 

My love on an altar 

More noble shall burn, 

I still will love on 

Without hopes of return; 

I’ll tell her some other 

Has kindled the flame, 

And I’ll sigh for herself 

In another one’s name. 

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