Why dost thou fly me thus? Oh cruel Boy!

WHY dost thou fly me thus? Oh cruel Boy!
I am no Wolf that would thy Life destroy:
But a fond Nymph Admirer of thy Face,
As Echo once of fair Narcissus was.

Thou e'en in Dangers dost thy Fancy please,
Striving with Toyl the hunted Game to seise:
While wretched me, who languish for thy sake,
When in thy Net thou dost refuse to take.

But I, alas, in vain attempt to sind
Effects of Pity in a hard'ned Mind:
As soon the Hare its Hunters may pursue,
As I with Prayers thy cruel Heart subdue.

My Pow'r, I see, cannot thy Steps retain
Thus led by Sports, and wing'd by thy Disdain.