104
EPISTLES.
TO MIRA.
I.
So calm and ſo ſerene but now,
What means this change on Mira’s brow?
Her aguiſh love now glows and burns,
Then chills and ſhakes, and the cold fit returns.
II.
Mock’d with deluding looks and ſmiles,5
When on her pity I depend,
My airy hope ſhe ſoon beguiles,
And laughs to ſee my torments never end.
III.
So up the ſteepy hill with pain
The weighty ſtone is roll’d in vain,10
Which, having touch’d the top, recoils,
And leaves the lab’rer to renew his toils.12
TO MIRA.
I.
Thoughtful nights and reſtleſs waking,
Oh the pains that we endure!
Broken faith, unkind forſaking,
Ever doubting, never ſure.
II.
Hopes deceiving, vain endeavours,5
What a race has Love to run!
Falſe proteſting, fleeting favours,
Ev’ry, ev’ry way undone.
