Her gay Descent the Man perceiv'd afar,
Wond'ring he run to catch the falling Star;
But so surpriz'd, as none but he can tell,
Who lov'd so quickly, and who lov'd so well.
O'er all his Veins the wand'ring Passion burns,
He calls her Nymph, and ev'ry Nymph by turns.
Her Form to lovely  he prefers,
Or swears that  must be such as hers.
She, proud to rule, yet strangely fram'd to teize,
Neglects his Offers while her Airs she plays,
Shoots scornful Glances from the bended Frown,
In brisk Disorder trips it up and down,
Then hums a careless Tune to lay the Storm,
And sits, and blushes, smiles, and yields, in