Love and Despair

In vain I write, in vain I strive to move
Her whose stern nature is averse to love:
Ah Cruel Nymph! Ah most regardless Fair!
Still scorning, smiling at my restless care.
'Tis said, the glorious World and all above
Was rais'd from Chaos at one word of Love:
Through the wide Wast blest order swiftly flew,
And wild Confusion chang'd her griefly hew,
Discord by her own Off-spring was forsook;
And the glad Spheres their constant motion took,
And with a joint consent for ever march
Their mighty rounds over the spangl'd Arch:
From Love's eternal sway there's nothing free;
'Tis strange, then, Caelia, there is none in Thee,
But sure there is, though not design'd for me.
And, to say truth, my hopes must needs be frail
When Interest more than Passion does prevail,
And vulgar breath kick up the sacred scale:
Besides (what plainer proof of stedfast hate?
She says she scorns, and what she says is Fate:
For if'twere possible she shou'd be kind,
Her very Eyes, e're this, had told her mind;
But Ah! instead of Love, when I gaze there,
In plain, broad Characters I read, Despair!
Despair then wretch, nor longer strive to move
Her whose stern Nature is averse to Love.