Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts
Barker, Jane.
Page  245


EVadne, I must tell you so,
You are too cruel grown;
No smiles nor pity you bestow,
But Death in ev'ry frown.
My Love, though chast and consant too,
Yet no relief can ind;
Curst be the slave that's false to you,
Though you are still unkind.
Were you as mercifull as fair,
My wishes wou'd obtain;
But love I must, though I despair,
And perish in the pain.
If in an Age I can prevail,
I happy then shall be;
And cou'd I live, I wou'd not fail
To wait Eternally.