University of Virginia Library

The Ingrate.

Ungrateful Fair! can You despise
The Slave, who so admires those Eyes?
Can You from his dear Arms depart,
From Love and Him estrange your Heart?
Your Heart, that does too faithless prove
To entertain his constant Love?
Ah! Cruel Nymph! to whom is giv'n
A Form more bright, more proud than Heav'n;
Whose scornful Soul, and haughty Breast,
Disdain to make a God their Guest.
And must I bear your cold Disdain,
While You but laugh at all my Pain?
No.—I will triumph in my Turn,
And I will laugh, while You shall mourn,
And render Pride for Pride, and Scorn for Scorn.
Then fare You well, a long Adieu
To all your Pride, your Scorn, and You.
My Muse shall now no more rehearse,
Nor grace thy Beauties with my Verse;
Unworthy of my Songs of Praise,
And all my sweet harmonious Lays:
Then once more thus I bid Adieu
To all your Pride, your Scorn, and You.
For why shou'd You the Heart despise,
That bright Lucinda deigns to prize?
Lucinda the kind tempting Fair,
Of all our Youth the publick Care;
Whose Cheeks the sweetest Blossoms yield
That smile in blooming Beauty's Field;
She boldly makes my Heart Her Claim,
She burns, and glories in the Flame;
To me She gives up all Her Charms,
And melting drops into my Arms.
Already, fam'd by my soft Song,
She warms the Old, and fires the Young;
My wanton Song, that soars so high,
It proudly lifts Her to the Sky,
To Heav'n Her am'rous Fire prefers,
And bids it there outshine the Stars.
Forsaken thus, how will You mourn!
How will You now accuse your Scorn!
And urg'd by secret Grief complain,
While Tears upbraid your past Disdain.
But You, in vain, shall weep and mourn;
In vain shall Tears upbraid your Scorn;
For I will mind your Sighs, and Tears no more,
Than You, proud Nymph, regarded mine before.