After Dryden:

WHEN Love hath pierced the virgin's heart,

She strives to hide the wound in vain;

To bid it from her mem'ry part,

And seeks with smiles to hide her pain.

How often now she seeks the glass,

And plumes herself with care,

Say unperceiving friends; alas,

She ne'er before knew she was fair!

They wonder at her froward will,

Her friends she puts herself above,

But finally they guess the ill, -

"Perhaps she is in love!"