MRS. TAYLOR

Strephon hath fashion, wit, and youth, With all things else that please; He nothing wants but Love and Truth To ruin me with ease. But he is flint, and bears the art To kindle fierce desire, Whose pow’r enflames another’s heart, And he ne’re feels the fire. O how it does my soul perplex, When I his charms recall, To think he shou’d despise our sex; Or, what’s worse love ’em all. So that my heart, like Noah’s dove, In vain has sought for rest, Finding no hope to fix my love, Returns into my breast.