The lover, in melodious verses, br His singular distress rehearses; br Still closing with a rueful cry, br 'Was ever such a wretch as I!' br Yes! thousands have endured before br All thy distress; some, haply, more. br Unnumber’d Corydons complain, br And Strephons, of the like disdain; br And if thy Chloe be of steel, br Too deaf to hear, too hard to feel; br Not her alone that censure fits, br Nor thou alone hast lost thy wits.