|POETS — SUPPLEMENT.||97|
Ayton, Sir Robert, [note] Private Secretary to the Queen of Denmark, [note]
|POETS — SUPPLEMENT.||99|
| I lov'd thee once, I'll love no more, |
Thine be the grief, as is the blame;
Thou art not what thou wast before,
What reason I should be the same.
He that can love unlov'd again
Hath better store of love than brain.
God send me love my debts to pay,
While unthrifts fool their love away.
| Nothing could have my love o'erthrown |
If thou hadst still continued mine;
Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own,
I might, perchance, have yet been thine;
But thou thy freedom did recal,
That it thou might elsewhere enthral,
And then, how could I but disdain
A captive's captive to remain.
| When new desires had conquer'd thee, |
And chang'd the object of thy will,
It had been lethargy in use,
No constancy, to love thee still:
Yea, it hath been a sin to go
And prostitute affection so,
Since we are taught no prayers to say
To such as must to others pray.
| Yet do thou glory in thy choice; |
Thy choice, of his good fortune boast;
I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice,
To see him gain what I have lost:
|100||LIVES OF EMINENT SCOTSMEN.|
| The height of my disdain shall be, |
To laugh at him, to blush for thee;
To love thee still, but go no more
A begging at a beggar's door.