No, no, my flame was not pretended,

For oh! I lov'd you most sincerely,

And though our dream at last is ended,

My bosom still esteems you dearly.

7.

No more we meet in yonder bowers,

Perhaps my soul's too prone to roving,

But older, firmer hearts than ours,

Have found monotony in loving.

8.

Your cheeks soft bloom is unimpair'd,

Your beauties still are daily bright'ning,

Your eye for conquest comes prepar'd,

The forge of love's resistless lightning.

[pg 38] 

[pg 38]

9.

Arm'd thus to make their bosoms bleed,

Many will throng to sigh like me, love,

More constant they may prove indeed,

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