University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

XXVI
SONG

Fair Aminta, art thou mad,
To let the World in me
Envy Joys I never had,
And censure them in thee?
Fill'd with Grief, for what is past,
Let us at length be wise,
And to Love's true Enjoyments hast,
Since we have paid the Price.
Love does easie Souls despise,
Who lose themselves for Toys,
And escape for those devise,
Who taste his utmost Joys.
Love should, like the Year, be crown'd
With sweet Variety;
Hope should in the Spring abound,
Kind Fears, and Jealousie.
In the Summer Flowers should rise,
And in the Autumn Fruit;
His Spring doth else but mock our Eyes,
And in a Scoff salute.