To Euthalia. Written in the Year 1728

BURNING with love, tormented with despair, Unable to forget or ease his care; In vain each practis'd art Alexis tries; In vain to books, to wine or women flies; Each brings Euthalia's image to his eyes. In Locke's or Newton's page her learning glows; Dryden the sweetness of her numbers shews; In all their various excellence I find The various beauties of her perfect mind. How vain in wine a short relief I boast! Each sparkling glass recalls my charming toast. To women then successless I repair, Engage the young, the witty, and the fair. When Sappho's wit each envious breast alarms, And Rosalinda looks ten thousand charms; In vain to them my restless thoughts would run; Like fairest stars, they show the absent sun.