Flames begin our first addrefs,
Like meeting thunder we embrace : Then, you know, the fhowers that fall Quench the fire, and quiet all.
How should I the fhowers forget 'Twas fo pleasant to be wet! They kill'd love, I knew it well. I dy'd all the while they fell. Say at least what nymph it is, Robs my breast of so much blifsel If the 's fair, I fhall be eas'd, Through my ruin you 'll be pleas'd.
OSTRE PHON.)
Daphne never was so fair, Strephon, fcarcely, fo fincere. Gentle, innocent, and free, Ever pleas'd with only me. Many charms my heart enthral, But there's one above them all : With averfion, she does fly Tedious, trading, conftancy.
Cruel fhepherd! I fubmit, Do what love and you think fit: Change is fate, and not defign. Say you would have still been mine.
STRE PHO N.....
Nymph, I cannot: 'tis too true, Change has greater charms than you.
Be, by my example, wife; : Faith to pleasure facrifice.
Silly fwain, I'll have you know, 'Twas my practice long ago: Whilft you vainly thought me true, I was falfe, in fcorn of you. By my tears, my heart's disguise, I thy love and thee despise.. Womankind more joy discovers Making fools, than keeping lovers.
Scorch'd up with love, froze with disdain,
Of killing fweetness I complain.
STREPHO N.
If 'tis Corinna, die.
Since first my dazzled eyes were thrown
On that bewitching face,
Like ruin'd birds robb'd of their young,
Lamenting, frighted, and undone,
I fly from place to place. Fram'd by fome cruel powers above,
So nice she is, and fair;
None from undoing can remove
Since all, who are not blind, must love; Who are not vain, despair.
The gods no fooner give a grace,
But, fond of their own art,
Severely jealous, ever place,. To guard the glories of a face, A dragon in the heart.
Proud and ill-natur'd powers they are,
Who, peevish to mankind,
For their own honour's fake, with care Make a fweet form divinely fair: Then add a cruel mind.
STREPH ON.
Since the 's infenfible of love, By honour taught to hate; If we, forc'd by decrees above, Muft fenfible to beauty prove,
How tyrannous is Fate !
I to the nymph have never nam'd The cause of all my pain.
Such bashfulness may well be blam'd; For, fince to ferve we 're not afham'd, Why should fhe blush to reign?
Who would refift an empire fo divine, Which univerfal nature does enjoin? See gentle brooks, how quietly they glide, Kiffing the rugged banks on either side; While in their crystal streams at once they show, And with them feed the flowers which they beftow: Though rudely throng'd by a too near embrace, In gentle murmurs they keep on their pace To the lov'd fea; for streams have their defires; Cool as they are, they feel love's powerful fires, And with fuch passion, that if any force Stop or moleft them in their amorous course, They fwell, break down with rage, and ravage o'er The banks they kiss'd, and flowers they fed before. Submit then, Calia, ere you be reduc'd,
For rebels, vanquish'd once, are vilely us'd. Beauty's no more but the dead foil, which Love Manures, and does by wife commerce improve: Sailing by fighs, through feas of tears, he fends Courtships from foreign hearts, for your own ends : Cherish the trade, for as with Indians we Get gold and jewels, for our trumpery, So to each other, for their useless toys, Lovers afford whole magazines of joys. But, if you 're fond of baubles, be, and starve, Your gewgaw reputation ftill preserve :
Live upon modesty and empty fame, Foregoing fenfe for a fantastic name.
ÆLIA, that faithful servant you disown, Would in obedience keep his love his own:
But bright ideas, fuch as you inspire,
We can no more conceal than not admire. My heart at home in my own breast did dwell, Like humble hermit in a peaceful cell: Unknown and undisturb'd it refted there, Stranger alike to Hope and to Despair. Now Love with a tumultuous train invades The facred quiet of those hallow'd shades ; His fatal flames fhine out to every eye, Like blazing comets in a winter sky. How can my paffion merit your offence, That challenges fo little recompence ? For I am one born only to admire,
Too humble e'er to hope, scarce to defire. A thing, whose bliss depends upon your will, Who would be proud you'd deign to use him ill. Then give me leave to glory in my chain, My fruitless fighs, and my unpity'd pain. Let me but ever love, and ever be Th' example of your power and cruelty. Since fo much fcorn does in your breast reside, Be more indulgent to its mother Pride.
Kill all you ftrike, and trample on their graves; But own the fates of your neglected flaves:
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