Chapter 10 of 26

ODE IV.

AFFECTED INDIFFERENCE. TO THE SAME.

  1 Yes: you contemn the perjured maid
    Who all your favourite hopes betray'd:
    Nor, though her heart should home return,
    Her tuneful tongue its falsehood mourn,
    Her winning eyes your faith implore,
    Would you her hand receive again,
    Or once dissemble your disdain,
    Or listen to the siren's theme,
    Or stoop to love: since now esteem
  And confidence, and friendship, is no more.

  2 Yet tell me, Phaedria, tell me why,
    When, summoning your pride, you try
    To meet her looks with cool neglect,
    Or cross her walk with slight respect
    (For so is falsehood best repaid),
    Whence do your cheeks indignant glow?
    Why is your struggling tongue so slow?
    What means that darkness on your brow,
    As if with all her broken vow
  You meant the fair apostate to upbraid?