SONG XXXI.
The Farewel.
I
Farewel, O Silvia! and in Thee
Farewel to Love and Jealousie;
To Grief, Distraction, Hope and Fear,
And ev'ry other little Care
That will be where the Lovers are;
Farewel ye Legions of my Breast,
All gone, now Woman's dispossest.
II
How well I lov'd I need not tell,
I'll only say I lov'd too well.
Thro' ev'ry Artery ev'ry Vein,
The quickning Joy resistless ran,
And ne'er was a more happy Man.
Immortal Constancy I swore,
And meant it—what cou'd Mortal more?
III
And yet remember how you still
Wou'd steer my Reason by your Will:
Now in a Storm you'd shew your Pow'r,
Be sullen, sick, and sad and sour,
And all these Changes in an Hour;
Still ill at ease tho' ne'er so well,
And how to please you none cou'd tell.
IV
On your Discourse I watchful hung,
And thought all Musick from your Tongue;
Tho' I cou'd nothing ever hear
But whether Silks were cheap, or dear;
Or Fashions for another Year:
With Panegyricks on the Crew
Of Fops that dress'd and patch'd like you.
V
But now your Flame began to wast,
No Thought of any Promise past:
To one of Wealth away you ran,
But let him keep you if he can,
Too needy I for the Trapan.
O how my Poverty I prize!
Wealth wou'd have kept on the Disguise.
VI
As Weather Cocks declare the Wind,
In Thee I see all Womankind;
See to what fatal Point they tend
To whom they're haughty, whom they bend,
And whom they martyr in the End.
Fly (wretched Men!) th'alluring Race,
All's Hell beside the Heav'nly Face.
