I'll tell the Signs, by which you may
The wand'ring Shepherdess discover.
Coquet and Coy at once her Air, 5 Both study'd, tho' both seem neglected;
Careless she is with artful Care,
Affecting to seem unaffected.
With Skill her Eyes dart ev'ry Glance,
Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect 'em; 10 For she'd persuade they wound by chance,
Tho' certain Aim and Art direct 'em.
She likes her self, yet others hates
For that which in her self she prizes;
And while she Laughs at them, forgets 15 She is the Thing that she despises.
THOUGHTFUL Nights, and restless Waking,
O the Pains that we endure!
Broken Faith, unkind Forsaking,
Ever doubting, never sure.
Hopes deceiving, vain Endeavours, 5 What a Race has Love to run!
False Protesting, fleeting Favours,
Ev'ry, ev'ry way, undone.
Still complaining, and defending,
Both to love, yet not agree, 10 Fears tormenting, Passion rending,
O the Pangs of Jealousie!
From such painful Ways of living,
Ah how sweet, cou'd Love be free!
Still presenting, still receiving 15 Fierce, immortal Extasie.