The Sides did appear,
And the Bottom how deep; 15 His Torments projecting,
And sadly reflecting,
That a Lover forsaken
A new Love may get;
But a Neck, when once broken, 20 Can never be set:
And, that he cou'd die
Whenever he wou'd;
But, that he cou'd live
But as long as he cou'd: 25 How grievous soever
The Torment might grow,
He scorn'd to endeavour
To finish it so.
But Bold, Unconcern'd 30 At Thoughts of the Pain,
He calmly return'd
To his Cottage again.
____________________To His Book1
GO, LITTLE book, and to the world impart,
The faithful image of an am'rous heart;
Those who love's dear, deluding pains have known,
May in my fatal stories read their own.
Those who have liv'd from all its torments free, 5 May find the thing they never felt, by me;
Perhaps advis'd, avoid the guilded bait,
And, warn'd by my example, shun my fate.
While with calm joy, safe landed on the coast,
I view the waves on which I once was tost. 10 Love is a medley of endearments, jars,
Suspicions, quarrels, reconcilements, wars;
Then peace again. Oh! wou'd it not be best,
To chase the fatal poison from our breast?
But since so few can live from passion free, 15 Happy the man, and only happy he,
Who with such lucky stars begins his love,
That his cool judgment does his choice approve.
Ill-grounded passions quickly wear away;
What's built upon esteem, can ne'er decay. 20
Poets. Volume II, 1749.