A SONG.

Cruel invader of my Rest,
Thou fatal bold intruding Guest,
Thy new Assaults forbear:
Alas, I know, nor Health, nor Ease,
My Life is grown a mere Disease,
Abandon'd to Despair.

II.

When I the dear Deceiver view,
can't forbear to think her true:
But absent from my Eye,
A thousand anxious Fears arise,
A thousand racking Jealousies,
I Rage, I rave, I die.

III.

Alone I would thy Force elude,
But Love delights in Solitude,
And Doubt still revels here;
I seek Relief from Company,
But that affords no Charms to me,
If Cynthia is not there.

IV.

All Day I muse, all Night I dream,
My passion is my constant Theme,
Nor take I Food or Rest:
I know and find my self undone,
Yet madly push my Ruin on,
Though slighted and opprest.

V.

Oh Love! thy wond'rous Pow'r I own,
Let now thy Clemency be shown,
And Cynthia bear a Part:
Transpierce her Breast with equal Flame,
Or let me be my self again,
And take away thy Dart.