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W, L L ! I will never more complain,
Or call the Fates unkind ;

Alas! how fond it is, how vain !

But felf-conceitednefs does reign
In every mortal mind.

*Tis true they long did me deny,
Nor would permit a fight ;

I rag'd ; for I could not efpy,

Or think that any harm could lie ,
Difguis'd in that delight.

At laft, my wifhes to fulfi1,
They did their power refign;

I faw her ; but I wifh I ftill

Had beem obedient to their will,
And they not unto mine.

Yet I by this have learnt the wit,
Never to grieve or fret:
contentedly I will fubmit,
And think that beft which they think fit,
Without the leaft regret.
S 4 XXV. " s E t

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C HL O E beauty has and wit,
And an air that is not common ;

Every charm in her does meet,
Fit to make a handfome woman.

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She is always doing good, • •
Of her favours never fparing,

And, as all good Chriftians fhould,
keeps poor mortals from defpairing.

Jove the power knew of her charms,
. And that no man could endure them,
So, providing 'gainft all harms,
Gave to her the power to cure them.

And *twould be a cruel thing,
When her black eyes have rais'd defire,

Should fhe not her bucket bring,
And kindly help to quench the fire.

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XXVI.

SINcE, Moggy, I mum bid adieu,
How can I help defpairing ?

Let cruel fate us ftill purfue,
There 's nought more worth my caring.

*Twas fhe alone could calm my foul,
When racking thoughts did grieve me ;

Her eyes my trouble could control,
And into joys deceive me.

Farewel, ye brooks ; no more along
Your banks mun I be walking:

No more you'll hear my pipe or fong,
Or pretty Moggy's talking.

But I by death an end will give
To grief, fince we mun fever:

For who can after parting live,
Gught to be wretched ever.

XXVII. XXVII.

S O M E kind angel, gently fying,
Mov*d with pity at my pain,

Tell Corinna, I am dying,
Till with joy we meet again.

Tell Corinna, fince we parted,
I have never known delight :

And fhall foon be broken-hearted,
If I longer want her fight.

Tell her how her lover, mourning,
Thinks each lazy day a year ;

Curfing every morn returning,
Since Corinna is not here.

Tell her too, not diftant places,
Will fhe be but true and kind,

Join'd with time and change of paces,
E'er fhall fhake my conftant mind.

XXVIII.

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VV,, IL ST others proclaim
This nymph, or that fwain,
Deareft Nelly the lovely I'll fing;
She fhall grace every verfe,
I* 11 her beauties rehearfe,
Which lovers can't think an ill thing.

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