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Yet when some better-fated youth
Reflect one moment on his truth
A BETTER ANSWER.
IDEAR Cloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face; Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl’d:
Proy thee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaffsays) Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world.
How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy
To be vex'd at a trifle or two that I writ, [wrong:
What I speak, my fair Cloe, and what I write, shows
The difference there is betwixt nature and art:
I court others in verse; but I love thee in prose:
And they have my whimsies, but thou hast my heart.
The god of us verse-men (you know child) the sun,
If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to rum ;
So when I am wearied with wandering all day, To thee, my delight, in the evening I coine :
No matter what beauties I saw in my way; * They were but my visits, but thou art my home.
Then finish, dear Cloe, this pastoral war;
For thou art a girl as much brighter than her,
PALLAS AND VENUS. AN ELIGIRAM.
THE Trojan swain had judg’d the great dispute, And beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit; When Venus, loose 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:
1 My heart with her but, as guest-wise, sojourn'd;
Yield, sister; rival, yield : naked, you see, I vanquish : guess how potent I should be, If to the field I came in armour drest; [crest! Dreadful, like thine, my shield, and terrible my
The warrior goddess with disdain replied: Thy folly, child, is equal to thy pride: Let a brave enemy for once advise, And Venus (if 'tis possible) be wise. Thou to be strong must put off every dress; Thy only armour is thy nakedness: And more than once, (or thou art much belied) By Mars himself that armour has been tried.
TO A YOUNG GENTIEMAN IN LOVE.
FROM public noise and factious strife,
In golden bondage let them wait, And barter happiness for state. But oh! my Celia, when thy swain Desires to see a court again, May Heaven around this destin’d head The choicest of its curses shed To sum up all the rage of Fate, In the two things I dread and hate; Mayst thou be false, and I be great! Thus, on his Celia's panting breast, Fond Celadon his soul express'd ; While with delight the lovely maid Receiv'd the vows, she thus repaid : Hope of my age, joy of my youth, Blest miracle of love and truth ! All that could e'er be counted mine, My love and life, long since are thine : A real joy I never knew, Till I believ'd thy passion true: A real grief I ne'er can find, Till thou prov'st perjur'd or unkind. Contempt, and poverty, and care, All we abhor, and all we fear, Blest with thy presence, I can bear. Through waters, and through flames I'll go. Sufferer and solace of thy woe: Trace me some yet unheard-of way, That I thy ardour may repay; And make my constant passion known, By more than woman yet has done.
Isad I a wish that did not bear
O happy these of human races
While men have these ambitious fancies; And wanton wenches read romances; Our sex will—What? out with it. Lie ; And theirs in equal strains reply.