Poems upon several occasions | ||
61
The Sence of a Letter sent me, made into Verse; To a New Tune.
I
In vain I have labour'd the Victor to proveOf a Heart that can ne'er give Admittance to Love:
So hard to be won,
That nothing so young,
Could e'er have resisted a Passion so long.
II
But nothing I left unattempted or said,To soften the Heart of the Pityless Maid;
Yet still she was shy,
And would blushing deny,
Whilst her willinger Eyes gave her Language the Lye.
III
When before the Impregnable Fort I lay down,I resolv'd or to die, or to Purchase Renown,
62
All the Glory I lost,
And now vanquish'd and sham'd I've quitted my Post.
Poems upon several occasions | ||