TO A LOVER. Rev Henry Harington the Younger Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1137 K093079.004 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. IV. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 184-185. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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TO A LOVER . BY — . WHY didst thou rase such woeful wayle , And waste in briny tears thyne days ; Cause shee , that wont to flout and rayl , At last gave proof of woman's waies ? Shee did , in soothe , display the hearte That mought have wroughte thee greater smarte . Why thank her then , not weepe nor mone , Let others guard their careless hearte ; And praise the day that thus made knowne The faithless hold on woman's art . Their lips can gloze and gain suche roote , That gentle youthe hathe hope of fruite . But , ere the blossom faire dothe rise , To shoot its sweetness o'er the taste , Creepeth disdain in canker-wise , And chilling scorne the fruite dothe blaste . There is no hope of all our toyl , There is no fruit from such a soil . Give o'er thy playnt , the danger's o'er , Shee might have poyson'd all thyne lyfe ; Such wayward mynde had bred thee more Of sorrowe , had she prov'd a wyfe . Leave her to meet all hopeless meed , And bless thyself that so art freed . No youthe shall sue suche one to winne , Unmark'd by all the shyning fair , Save for her pride and scorn , such sinne As hearts of love can never bear ; Like leafless plant in blasted shade , So liveth shee a barren mayde ,