Page:Poems (Barbauld).djvu/78

68 &emsp;It is to quench thy joy in tears; &emsp;To nure trange doubts and groundles fears: If pangs of jealouy thou hat not prov'd, &emsp;Tho' he were fonder and more true &emsp;Than any nymph old poets drew, Oh never dream again that thou hat lov'd.

&emsp;If when the darling maid is gone, &emsp;Thou dot not eek to be alone, Wrapt in a pleaing trance of tender woe, &emsp;And mue, and fold thy languid arms, &emsp;Feeding thy fancy on her charms, Thou dot not love, for love is nouriuh'd o.

&emsp;If any hopes thy boom hare &emsp;But thoe which love has planted there, Or any cares but his thy breat enthrall,