than the other; and describes both with exquisite satirical humour—
"Fair Amoret is gone astray,
Pursue and seek her every lover;
I'll tell the signs by which you may
The wandering shepherdess discover.
Coquet and coy at once her air,
Both studied, though both seem neglected;
Careless she is with artful care,
Affecting to be unaffected.
With skill her eyes dart every glance,
Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect them;
For she'd persuade they wound by chance,
Though certain aim and art direct them.
She likes herself, yet others hates
For that which in herself she prizes;
And, while she laughs at them, forgets
She is the thing which she despises."
What could Amoret have done to bring down such shafts of ridicule upon her? Could she have resisted the irresistible Mr. Congreve? Could anybody? Could Sabina, when she woke and heard such a bard singing under her window. See, he writes—
"See! see, she wakes—Sabina wakes!
And now the sun begins to rise:
Less glorious is the morn, that breaks
From his bright beams, than her fair eyes.
With light united day they give;
But different fates ere night fulfil:
How many by his warmth will live!
How many will her coldness kill!"
Are you melted? Don't you think him a divine
