Nicholas Rowe

Think not the good,
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done,
Shall die forgotten all; the read more

Think not the good,
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done,
Shall die forgotten all; the poor, the prisoner,
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,
Who daily owe the bounty of thy hand,
Shall cry to Heaven, and pull a blessing on thee.

From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks,
Ten thousand little loves and graces spring
To revel read more

From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks,
Ten thousand little loves and graces spring
To revel in the roses.

Thou hast prevariated with thy friend,
By underhand contrivances undone me:
And while my open nature trusted read more

Thou hast prevariated with thy friend,
By underhand contrivances undone me:
And while my open nature trusted in thee,
Thou hast stept in between me and my hopes,
And ravish'd from me all my soul held dear.
Thou hast betray'd me.

When our old Pleasures die,
Some new One still is nigh;
Oh! fair Variety!

When our old Pleasures die,
Some new One still is nigh;
Oh! fair Variety!

As if Misfortune made the Throne her Seat,
And none could be unhappy but the Great.

As if Misfortune made the Throne her Seat,
And none could be unhappy but the Great.