To CYNTHIA.

I.

IF Beauty by Enjoyment can
Reward a Love that's true,
To bless our Patience or our Pain,
All I deserve from you.

II.

But oh, to Love too well's a Curse
Of such a strange degree,
Were my Fidelity far worse
Much happier should I be.

III.

Sad Recompence, relentless Fate
To faithful Love does give;
You'r pleas'd in being obstinate,
Whilst I in Tortures live.

III.

Like wretches gull'd to Foreign Shores,
I cruelly am serv'd,
Instead of Loves dear promis'd Stores
Am made a Slave and starv'd