Does it not more afflict your heart, The meaneft bud that falls from mine? Simpleft of fwains the world may see, } THE ΤΗ GARL A N D. HE pride of every grove I chose, At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place The flowers fhe wore along the day: And every nymph and fhepherd said, That in her hair they look'd more gay Than glowing in their native bed. IV. Undreft at evening, when the found Their odours loft, their colours past; She chang'd her look, and on the ground Her garland and her eye the caft. 5 V. That V. That eye dropt sense distinct and clear, As any Mufe's tongue could fpeak, When from its lid a pearly tear Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek. Diffembling what I knew too well, My love, my life, faid I, explain She figh'd; the fmil'd: and to the flowers See, friend, in fome few fleeting hours, Ah me! the blooming pride of May, At dawn poor Stella danc'd and fung; X. Such as fhe is, who dy'd to-day: Such I, alas! may be to-morrow: Go, Damon, bid thy Mufe difplay The juftice of thy Cloe's forrow. The The LADY who offers her LOOKING GLASS to VENUS. Taken from an Epigram of PLATO.. ENUS, take my votive glass; VEN Since I am not what I was; What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never fee. CLOE JEALOUS. I. ORBEAR to afk me, why I weep; FORB Vext Eloe to her shepherd faid; For mind I what you late have writ ? Emblems, to teach a female wit The ways, where changing Cupid flies?- Your riddle purpos'd to rehearse The general power that beauty has : But why did no peculiar verfe Describe one charm of Cloe's face? IV. The glafs, which was at Venus' shrine, Which fhew'd how youth and beauty fade: V. Ten thousand trifles light as these Nor can my rage, nor anger, move: When in my glass I chanc'd to look ; That every grace, which thence I took, Should know to charm my Damon more. Reading thý verfe; who heeds, faid I,, Whose heart to me is always true! VIII. My bloom indeed, my little flower IX. Yet car'd I not what might prefage Or withering wreath, or fleeting youth; Love I esteem'd more strong than Age, And Time lefs permanent than Truth. 1 X. Why then I weep, forbear to know: I ever yet conceal'd from thee. The fecret wound with which I bleed Answer to CLOE JEALOUS, in the fame Stile; the AUTHOR fick. I. TES, faireft proof of Beauty's power, YES, Dear idol of my panting heart, Nature points this my fatal hour: While now I take my laft adieu, Heave thou no figh, nor fhed a tear; Left yet my On earth an object worth its care. III. From Jealoufy's tormenting ftrife Content I haften to the dead. IV. Yet |