When Delia on the Plain appears,

Led by a thousand Fears,

I would approach, but dare not move;

Tell me, my Heart, if this be Love.

Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd Ear

No other Voice but her's can hear;

No other Wit but her's approve;

Tell me, my Heart, if this be Love.

If she some other Swain commend,

Tho' I was once his fondest Friend,

His instant Enemy I prove;

Tell me, my Heart, if this be Love.

When she is absent, I no more

Delight in all that pleas'd before;

The clearest Spring or shadiest Grove;

Tell me, my Heart, if this be Love.

When arm'd with insolent Disdain,

She seem'd to triumph o'er my Pain,

I strove to hate, but vainly strove;

Tell me, my Heart, if this be Love.