[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.