EPISTLES.
205
III.
Still complaining and defending,
Both to love, yet not agree,10
Fears tormenting, paſſion rending,
Oh the pangs of jealouſy!
IV.
From ſuch painful ways of living,
Ah! how ſweet! could love be free;
Still preſenting, ſtill receiving,
Fierce immortal ecſtasy.16
TO MIRA.
I.
Prepar’d to rail, reſolv’d to part,
When I approach the perjur’d fair,
What is it awes my tim’rous heart?
Why does my tongue forbear?
II.
With the leaſt glance a little kind,5
Such wondrous pow’r have Mira’s charms,
She calms my doubts, enſlaves my mind,
And all my rage diſarms.
III.
Forgetful of her broken vows,
When gazing on that form divine,10
Her injur’d vaſſal trembling bows,
Nor dares her ſlave repine.12
