IV.

The glafs, which was at Venus' fhrine,
With fuch myfterious forrow laid :
The garland (and you call it mine)

Which fhew'd how youth and beauty fade:
V.

Ten thousand trifles light as these

Nor can my rage,. nor anger,.move::
She fhould be humble, who would please ;
And the muft fuffer, who can love.
VI.

When in my glass I chanc'd to look ;
Of Venus what did I implore?

That every grace, which thence I took,

Should know to charm my Damon more.
VII.

Reading thy verfe; who heeds, faid I,
If here or there his glances flew ?
O, free for ever be his eye,

Whose heart to me is always true!
VIII.

My bloom indeed, my little flower
Of Beauty quickly loft its pride:-
For, fever'd from its native bower,
It on thy glowing bofom dy'd.
IX.

Yet car'd I not what might prefage

Or withering wreath, or fleeting youth; Love I efteem'd more strong than Age, And Time lefs permanent than Truth.

X.

Why then I weep, forbear to know:
Fall uncontroul'd, my tears, and free;
Damon! 'tis the only woe,

I ever yet conceal'd from thee.

XI.

The fecret wound with which I bleed
Shall lie wrapt up, ev'n in my hearse;
But on my tomb-ftone thou shalt read
My answer to thy dubious verse.

Answer to CLOE JEALOUS, in the fame Stile; the AUTHOR fick.

I.'

ES, faireft proof of Beauty's power,

YES,

Dear idol of my panting heart,

Nature points this my fatal hour :

And I have liv'd; and we must part.

Heave thou no figh, nor fhed a tear;
half-clos'd eye may view,

Left yet my

On earth an object worth its care.

III.

From Jealoufy's tormenting ftrife
For ever be thy bofom freed:
That nothing may disturb thy life,

Content I haften to the dead.

IV. Yet

IV.

Yet when fome better-fated youth

Shall with his amorous parly move thee,
Reflect one moment on his truth
Who dying thus, perfifts to love thee.

A

DEA

pretty

face !

EAR Cloc, how blubber'd is that Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd: Pr'ythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff says) Let us ev'n talk a little like folks of this world.

II.

How canft thou prefume, thou haft leave to deftroy The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping? Those looks were defign'd to infpire love and joy : More ordinary eyes may ferve people for weeping. III.

To be vext at a trifle or two that I writ,

Your judgment at once, and my paffion, you wrong: You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit: Od's-life! muft one fwear to the truth of a fong?

IV.

What I fpeak, my fair Cloe, and what I write, fhews
The difference there is betwixt nature and art:

I court others in verfe; but I love thee in profe:
And they have my whimfics, but thou haft my heart.

VOL. I.

K

V. The

V.

The God of us verse-men (you know, child) the Sun,
How after his journeys he fets up his reft:

If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to run;
At night he declines on his Thetis's breast.
VI.

So when I am weary'd with wandering all day;
To thee my delight in the evening I come :
No matter what beauties I saw in my way;
They were but my vifits, but thou art my home.

VII.

Then finish, dear Cloe, this paftoral war;

And let us like Horace and Lydia agree : For thou art a girl as much brighter than her, As he was a poet fublimer than me.

1

PALLAS

AND

AN EPIGRAM.

VENUS.

THE

great

difpute,

HE Trojan Swain had judg'd the
And Beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit;

When Venus, loofe in all her naked charms,
Met Jove's great daughter clad in shining arms.
The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid
From head to foot, and tauntingly she said :
Yield, fifter; rival, yield naked, fee,
you
I vanquish guefs how potent I should be,
If to the field I came in armour dreft;
Dreadful, like thine, my shield, and terrible my

:

creft!

The

3

The warrior goddess with disdain reply'd :
Thy folly, child, is equal to thy pride:
Let a brave enemy for once advise,
And Venus (if 'tis poffible) be wise.
Thou, to be ftrong, must put off every
Thy only armour is thy nakedness;

drefs:

And more than once (or thou art much bely'd) By Mars himself that arinour has been try'd.

To a young GENTLEMAN in Love.

A TALE.

FROM public noife and factious strife,
From all the bufy ills of life,

Take me, my Celia, to thy breast;

And lull

my.t
.wearied foul to reft.
For ever, in this humble cell,
Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell;
None enter elfe, but Love-and he
Shall bar the door, and keep the key.
To painted roofs and fhining fpires
(Uneafy feats of high defires)
Let the unthinking many croud,
That dare be covetous and proud:
In golden bondage let them wait,
And barter happiness for state.
But oh! my Celia, when thy fwain
Defires to fee a court again.