IL INFIDO by THOMAS FLATMAN

I BREATHE, 'tis true, wretch that I am, 'tis true,
But if to live be only not to die,
If nothing in that bubble, Life, be gay,
But all t' a tear must melt away;
Let fools and Stoics be cajol'd, say I:
Thou that lik'st Ease and Love, like me,
When once the world says, Farewell both, to thee,
What hast thou more to do
Than in disdain to say, Thou foolish world, adieu!

II.

There was a time, fool that I was! when I
Believ'd there might be something here below,
A seeming cordial to my drooping heart
That might allay my bitter smart:
I call'd it @3Friend:@1 -- but O th' inconstancy
Of human things! I tried it long,
Its love was fervent, and, I fancied, strong:
But now I plainly see,
Or 'tis withdrawn, or else 'twas all hypocrisy.

III.

I saw thy much-estranged eyes, I saw,
False Musidore, thy formal alter'd face,
When thou betray'dst my seeming happiness,
And coldly took'st my kind address:
But know that I will live; for in thy place
Heaven has provided for me now
A constant friend, that dares not break a vow;
That friend will I embrace,
And never more my overweening love misplace.

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