A Grove there was, a venerable Shade,
No hostile Iron durst her Boughs invade,
Whose lofty Pines for sev'ral Ages grew,
And rev'rend Oaks a hundred Winters knew:
A crystal River wander'd half-way round,
The rest defended with a hasel Mound;
'Twas here to shun  jealous Eye,
When  departed to the western Sky;
The sly  us'd to leave her Maids,
And meet  in the balmy Shades;
While the proud Youth who found himself despis'd,
His Person slighted and  priz'd;
Grew wild with Love and desp'rate with Despair,
And vow'd Destruction to the gentle Pair:
No quiet Hour his surly Spirit knows,
Nor Rest by Day-light or at Night Repose:
Cold to his Friends, and if they ask his Care,
He only answers with a fullen Glare.