chance, or some strange accident, she knows no business could divert
me. No, were the nation sinking, the great senate of the world
confounded, our glorious designs betrayed and ruined, and the vast
city all in flames; like _Nero_, unconcerned, I would sing my
everlasting song of love to _Sylvia_; which no time or fortune shall
untune. I know my soul, and all its strength, and how it is fortified,
the charming _Idea_ of my young _Sylvia_ will for ever remain there;
the original may fade; time may render it less fair, less blooming in
my arms, but never in my soul; I shall find thee there the same gay
glorious creature that first surprised and enslaved me, believe me
ravishing maid, I shall. Why then, oh why, my cruel _Sylvia_ are my
joys delayed? Why am I by your rigorous commands kept from the sight
of my heaven, my eternal bliss? An age, my fair tormentor, is past;
four tedious live-long days are numbered over, since I beheld the
object of my lasting vows, my eternal wishes; how can you think, oh
unreasonable _Sylvia_! that I could live so long without you? And yet
I am alive; I find it by my pain, by torments of fears and jealousies
insupportable; I languish and go downward to the earth; where you will
shortly see me laid without your recalling mercy. It is true, I move
about this unregarded world, appear every day in the great
senate-house, at clubs, cabals, and private consultations; (for
_Sylvia_ knows all the business of my soul, even in politics of State
as well as love) I say I appear indeed, and give my voice in public
business; but oh my heart more kindly is employed; that and my
thoughts are _Sylvia_'s! Ten thousand times a day I breathe that name,
my busy fingers are eternally tracing out those six mystic letters; a
thousand ways on every thing I touch, form words, and make them speak
a thousand things, and all are _Sylvia_ still; my melancholy change is
evident to all that see me, which they interpret many mistaken ways;
our party fancy I repent my league with them, and doubting I'll betray