[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
CElia, too late you wou’d repent:
The offering all your store,
Is now but like a pardon sent,
To one that’s dead before.
–
While at the first you cruel prov’d,
And grant the bliss too late,
You hindred me of one I lov’d,
To give me one I hate.
–
I thought you innocent as fair,
When first my court I made;
But when your falshoods plain appear,
My love no longer stay’d.
–
Your bounty of these favours shown,
Whose worth your first deface,
Is melting valu’d medals down,
And giving us the brass.
–
O! since the thing we beg’s a toy,
That’s priz’d by love alone,
Why cannot women grant the joy,
Before the love is gone.
