The Complaint

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I.
AWAY! away!
Tempt me no more, insidious Love:
  Thy soothing sway
  Long did my youthful bosom prove:
  At length thy treason is discern'd,
  At length some dear-bought caution earn'd:
Away! nor hope my riper age to move.

II.
I know, I see
Her merit. Needs it now be shown,
  Alas! to me?
  How often, to myself unknown,
  The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid
  Have I admired! How often said-
What joy to call a heart like hers one's own!

III.
  But, flattering god,
O squanderer of content and ease
  In thy abode
  Will care's rude lesson learn to please?
  O say, deceiver, hast thou won
  Proud Fortune to attend thy throne,
Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees?

© Mark Akenside