From Town fair Arabella flies, br The Beaux unpowder'd grieve, br The Rivers play before her eyes, br The Breezes softly breathing rise br The Spring begins to live. br Her Lovers swore they must expire br Yet quickly find their Ease, br For as she goes, their Flames retire br Love thrives before a nearer fire br Esteem by distant Rays. br Yet soon the Fair one will return br When Summer quits the Plain br Ye Rivers pour the weeping Urn, br Ye Breezes sadly sighing mourn, br Ye Lovers burn again. br 'Tis constancy enough in Love br That Nature's fairly shewn br To search for more will fruitless prove br Romances and the Turtle Dove br The Virtue boast alone.