The  Amours our softest Pity move,
Whose certain nat'ral Death is only Love.
Once, and but once, the niggard Pow'rs allow
The luckless Pair congenial Bliss to know.
Soon as the Male has try'd the luscious Joy,
The soft repeated Pleasures never cloy.
Excessive in Desire he won't give o'er,
Till strength and wasting Spirits be no more.
When Nature drain'd can grant no fresh Supplies,
Stretcht on the Sands all impotent he lies.
The little , late his usual Prey,
Insult his Doom, and all his Wrongs repay;
Their Foe, so dreadful once, no longer fear,
And well reveng'd the living Carkass tear.
He passive lies, nor feels the Pow'r to move,
But dying grieves his too unsated Love.
Nor long, when once enjoy'd, the Females live,
Or future Dolours of the Birth survive.
Their Eggs lie all compact, and strait's the Way,
Which must the cluster'd Heaps to Life convey.
Now when ripe Nature will the Birth constrain,
The teeming Bride feels her increasing Pain;
Nor longer can the tort'ring Pressure bear,
When falling Eggs th' unequal Passage tear.
Fate stints their Life; that Term they cannot pass,
One rolling Year concludes the shorten'd Space.
E'er the swift Chariot of the Gold-hair'd Sun
Has told the Days, and all his Circuit run,
Fond Suicides the dear Destruction prove
Of luckless Marriage, and disastrous Love.