Classic Poem

IV.
If I urge my kinde desires,
She unkind doth them reject;
Womens hearts are painted fires
To deceive them that affect.
I alone loves fires include,
Shee alone doth them delude.

Shee hath often vow'd her love,
But, alas, no fruit I finde.
That her fires are false I prove,
Yet in her no fault I finde:
I was thus unhappy borne,
And ordain'd to be her scorne.

Yet if humane care, or paine,
May the heav'nly order change,
She will hate her owne disdaine,
And repent she was so strange:
For a truer heart then I
Never liv'd, or lov'd to die.