Thus let me ne'er, ye pow'rs, her death deplore,'Twas her first fault, and she'll offend no more;No pardon she'll deserve a second time,But, without mercy, punish then her crime.
Elegy XV: The Poet addresses the ring which he has sent a present to his
mistress. By an unknown hand.Go, happy ring, who art about to bindThe fair one's finger; may the fair be kind.Small is the present, tho' the love be great;May she swift slip thee on thy taper seat.