A
ND martyrs I have made, All sacrificed to my desire,
A thousand beauties have betray'd That languish in resistless fire:
The untamed heart to hand I brought,
And fix'd the wild and wand'ring thought.
I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain, But both, tho' false, were well received;
The fair are pleased to give us pain, And what they wish is soon believed:
And tho' I talk'd of wounds and smart,
Love's pleasures only touch'd my heart.
Alone the glory and the spoil I always laughing bore away;
The triumphs without pain or toil, Without the hell the heaven of joy;
And while I thus at random rove Despise the fools that whine for love.
