Celia is cruel. Sylvia, thou,
I must confess art kind;
But in her cruelty, I vow,
I more repose can find.
For, oh! thy fancy at all games does fly,
Fond of address, and willing to comply.
Thus he that loves must be undone,
Each way on rocks we fall;
Either you will be kind to none,
Or worse, be kind to all.
Vain are our hopes, and endless is our care;
We must be jealous, or we must despair.
Robert Gould.