Wherever that afflicted paynim goes, He fills the kindling air with sighs that burn;
And Echo oft, for pity of his woes, With him from hollow rock is heard to mourn:
"O female mind! how lightly ebbs and flows Your fickle mood," (he cries,) "aye prone to turn!
Object most opposite to kindly faith!
Lost, wretched man, who trusts you to his scathe!