TO THE SIGHING STREPHON.
63
TO THE SIGHING STREPHON.[1]
1.
Your pardon, my friend,
If my rhymes did offend,
Your pardon, a thousand times o'er;
From friendship I strove,
Your pangs to remove,
But, I swear, I will do so no more.
2.
Since your beautiful maid,
Your flame has repaid,
No more I your folly regret;
She's now most divine,
And I bow at the shrine,
Of this quickly reforméd coquette.
3.
Yet still, I must own,[2]
I should never have known,
