SONG.

IT is not, Chloris, your disdain
Can ever cover with despair,
Or in cold Ashes hide that care;
Which I have fed with so long pain,
I may perhaps my Eyes refrain,
And fruitless words no more impart,
But yet still serve, still serve you in my heart.

What though I spend my hapless days
In finding Entertainments out,
Careless of what I go about:
Or seek my peace in skilful ways,
Applying to my Eyes new Rayes
Of Beauty and another flame,
Unto my heart, my heart is still the same.

'Tis true, that I could love no sace▪
Inhabited by cold disdain,
Taking delight in others pain.
Your looks are full of native grace,
Scorn there, by chance, alone has place;
And 'tis my hope I may in time remove,
This scorn one day, One day by endless Love.