The Deposition

Though when I lov'd thee thou wert fair,
Thou art no longer so;
Those glories all the pride they wear
Unto opinion owe;
Beauties, like stars, in borrow'd lustre shine;
And 'twas my love that gave thee thine.

The flames that dwelt within thine eye
Do now, with mine, expire;
Thy brightest graces fade and die
At once with my desire;
Love's fires thus mutual influence return;
Thine cease to shine, when mine to burn.

Then, proud Celinda, hope no more
To be implor'd or woo'd,
Since by thy scorn thou dost restore
The wealth my love bestow'd;
And thy despis'd disdain too late shall find
That none are fair but who are kind.