Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Say, Corinna, do you find,
Nothing in your bosom kind,
Is it never less severe,
Or d' ye never wish it were.
Yes, I read it in your eyes,
Hear it, know it by your sighs;
Sighs that gently steal their way,
Tell me all that you should say,

Tell me when you seem serene,
You're not always calm within;
But are vext with tumults there,
Such as oft disturb the fair.
Say, Corinna, is it true?
Say, for I'm a Lover too,
And can tell you what to do;
He that's worthy to be blest,
Should be first of Truth possest.
Young and constant he must be,
Fixt like you and Fond like me,
One that all affronts can bear,
Exil's, Jealousies, Despair;
One on whom you may depend,
For a Lover and a Friend,
Plead not now for an excuse,
Man does naught like this produce:

Justice, Madam, bids you see,
All these qualities in me.
Justice tells you I am He.