SONNET. TO —. BY THE SAME. "SWEET is the Love that comes with willingness:" So sings the sweetest Bard that ever sung; Ten thousand blessings on his tuneful tongue, Who felt and plain'd true lovers' sore distress! Sweet were the joys which once you did possess, When on the yielding Fair one's lips you hung; The sorer now your tender heart is wrung With sad remembrance of her fickleness: Yet let not grief and heart-consuming care Prey on your soul; but let your constant mind Bear up with strength and manly hardiness; Your worth may move a more deserving Fair; And she, that scornful beauty, soon may find, Sharp are the pangs that follow faithlessness.