University of Virginia Library

Behold, Amintor, an abandon'd Maid,
By Love and You to Misery betray'd
With tend'rest Vows, and fond bewitching Art,
You press'd, on ev'ry side, my easy Heart;
Till, having thrown the weak Intrenchments down
You plunder'd first, then left the naked Town.
Was it for this I all the World forsook,
And in your Arms my wish'd Asylum took:
To be, like some cheap Flower, unkindly torn
From my fix'd Root, then flung away in Scorn?
Ill-fated Passion! oh unequal Lot!
So long persu'd, am I so soon forgot?
Sure all our Sex are born to suffer Pain,
Either from Falshood, or from cold Disdain.
When Old, or ugly, Men our Faces shun:
If Young and handsome, we're too oft undone.

Ye happier Virgins, whose unblemish'd Fame
Has ne'er been sullied by this guilty Flame;
By my Example warn'd, avoid with Care
All close Engagements in Love's fatal War.
Tho' long uninjur'd you maintain the Fight,
You'll find your only Safety's in your Flight.
The Foe all Stratagems and Methods tries:
Who Force escape, are taken by Surprize.
On Wings of Down his treach'rous Arrows fly:
Ah! guard each Avenue, or else you Die.
Trust not the slight Defence of Female Pride,
Nor in your boasted Honour much confide.
So still the Motion, and so smooth the Dart,
It stole unfelt into my heedless Heart.
The subtle Poison lurk'd a while conceal'd;
But soon the Symptoms the Disease reveal'd.
A sad afflictive melancholy Pain
Throbb'd at my Breast, and beat in ev'ry Vein.
My heaving Bosom swell'd with sudden Sighs,
And Tears unbidden trickled from my Eyes.
In restless Fevers languishing I lay,
Dreaming all Night, and raving all the Day.
Yet this, methinks, with ease I could sustain,
Abjure my Freedom, and embrace my Chain;
Would but Amintor one kind Look bestow
To sooth my Grief, and mitigate my Woe.
One flatt'ring Smile would scatter all my Fears,
As Shadows vanish when the Sun appears.
So, if the Weight of some unfriendly Storm
Crush the pale Hyacinth, his Charms deform,
He hangs his Head, and seems a while to mourn,
Till the bright Ruler of the Day return;
But soon as e'er he feels his genial Fire,
With kindly Warmth his tender Leaves inspire;
Strait he revives with the same Purple Grace;
And the chill Dews no longer cloud his Face.
But, ah! This Image no Resemblance bears,
Amintor still is false, and Sylvia still despairs.

Like some misguided Traveller that strays
Through pathless Woods, and unfrequented Ways,
My Soul, deluded from her Native Seat,
Finds no kind Shelter, no secure Retreat.
Safe while I follow'd Virtue's steady Light:
Depriv'd of That, I'm left in endless Night.
What shall I do? Ah, whither shall I turn?
In lawless Fires must I for ever burn?
Nor Peace, nor Innocence again return?
Ah no! All other Ills some Cure may find;
But there's no Med'cine for a Love-sick Mind.
Death only can my mortal Anguish end,
And Nature's Enemy must be my Friend.
Ungen'rous Victor, from whose Rage thy Slave
Flies for Relief to the relentless Grave.
But when my Ashes in their Urn are laid,
Who scorn'd me Living, will lament me Dead.
My Suff'ring cannot fail at length to move
Your Mind to Pity, though averse to Love.