Phillis, we grieve not that Nature

Phillis, we grieve not that Nature, Forming Thee has done her Part; And in ev'ry single Feature, Shewn the utmost of her Art.

But in This, it is pretended, That a mighty Grievance lies, That thy Heart should be defended, Tho' Thou wound'st Us with Thy Eyes.

Love's a senseless Inclination, Where no Mercy's to be found; But is Just where kind Compassion Gives Us Balm to heal the Wound.

Persians, paying solemn Duty, To the rising Sun inclin'd, Never would adore his Beauty, But in hopes to make Him kind.