DEJECTED, as true converts die, But yet with fervent thoughts inflam'd, So fairest! at your feet I lie, Of all my sex's faults asham'd. Too long, alas! have I abus'd Love's innocent and sacred flame, And that divinest power have us'd To laugh at as an idle name. But since so freely I confess A crime which may your scorn produce, Allow me now to make it less By any just and fair excuse. I then did vulgar joys pursue, Variety was all my bliss; But ignorant of love and you, How could I choose but do amiss? If ever now my wandering eyes Seek out amusements as before; If e'er I look, but to despise Such charms, and value yours the more; May sad remorse and guilty shame, Revenge your wrongs on faithless me; And, what I tremble ev'n to name, May I lose all in losing thee. |