To Miss LUCY F

Once by the Muse alone inspir'd, I sung my amorous strains: No serious Love my bosom fir'd; Yet every tender Maid deceiv'd The idly-mournful tale believ'd, And wept my fancied pains.

But Venus now to punish me, For having feign'd so well, Has made my Heart so fond of thee, That not the whole Aonian quire Can accents soft enough inspire, Its real flame to tell.