Classic Poem

Nothing adds to your fond fire,
More than Scorne, and cold disdaine,
I to cherish your desire,
Kindnesse us'd, but 'twas in vaine.
You insulted on your Slave,
Humble Love you soone refus'd
Hope not then a Pow'r to have
Which Ingloriously you us'd.

Thinke not Thirsis I will e're
By my Love, my Empire loose,
You grow Constant through despair,
Love return'd, you wou'd abuse.
Tho' you still possesse my heart,
Scorne, and Rigour, I must feigne,
Ah! forgive that only Art,
Love, has left your Love to gaine.

You that cou'd my Heart subdue;
To new Conquests, ne're pretend,
Let your Example make me true
And of a Conquer'd Foe, a Friend.
Then if e're I shou'd complaine,
Of your Empire, or my Chain,
Summon all your Pow'rfull Charmes,
And fell the Rebell in your Armes.