7
With something like a passion.
lot dull insipid joys I found,
Che bliss no genuine raptures crown’d,
The fair but love from fashion.
nconstant I of course became, No care kept up .he lambent flame. Which thus unheeded died : To whim was sacrific’d each grace, To vanity each pleasing face, And lov'd toe oft to pride.
t length I fair Eliza saw, Whose beauty fire—whose virtue awe; l gaz’d, admir’d, and lov’d Her sweet attention soothes each care, Nought can our mutual bliss impair , Time has our flame improv’d.
THE CONSTANT SWAIN!
WHERE is my conftant jewel, my joy and heart’s delight ? Why does fhe prove fo cruel, as to forfake me quite ?
I might have had much treafure, had I forfook her charms I lov’d her out og meafure, I with’d her in my arms
How oft have I beheld her, the charming beauty bright,
