LUCINDA, by a fecret art,
Unknown to all but her,
Which she has practis'd on my heart,
Has charm'd the wanderer :
Enjoyment, which did ufe to abate
The vigour of love's heat,
Does now fresh appetites create,
The pleasures to repeat.
So fares it with the bird that's took,
And into bondage brought;
At first, his prison how to brook,
With difficulty's taught:
But, with kind tender usage bred,
Grows pleas'd with his abode ;
And with more delicates is fed,
Than e'er he found abroad.
SUCH moving founds, from fuch a careless touch!
So unconcern'd herself, and we so much!
What art is this? that with fo little pains
Transports us thus, and o'er our fpirits reigns!
The trembling ftrings about her fingers crow'd,
And tell their joy for every kiss aloud.
Small force there needs, to make them tremble fo,
Touch'd by that hand who wou'd not tremble too.
HO' Phyllis, you fcorn my addrefs,
Preferring a rattle that's vain;
Yet know 'tis respect in excess
My freedom of fpeech does restrain.
O cruel! confider my fire
Burns fiercer the more 'tis deprefs'd,
While his in a flash does expire;
He talks of a paffion in jeft.
How oft I've refolv'd when alone,
In fittest words then I cou'd chuse,
My affection fo true to make known;
But fpeech in your prefence I lofe:
Still what I am going to say,
Seems foolish ridiculous stuff;
My thoughts in a chaos do play;
No expreffions are worthy enough
O faireft, your fervant believe,
This is of true love the effect;
And what greater proof can he give?
For where there is love, there's respect.
All scholars in young Cupid's school
The rhet❜rick of tongues ftill despise;
'Tis in am'rous converse a rule,
To talk the foft language of eyes.
EE, fee, my Seraphina comes,
Adorn'd with every grace;
Look, gods, from your celestial domes,
And view her charming face.
Then fearch, and fee if you can find
In all your facred groves,
A nymph, or goddess, fo divine,
As the whom Strephon loves.
ELL me no more, I am deceiv'd;
That Cloe's falfe and common:
I always knew (at least believ'd)
She was a very woman:
As fuch, I lik'd; as fuch, carefs'd;
She still was conftant, when poffefs'd;
She cou'd do more for no man.
But oh! her thoughts on others ran ;
And that you think a hard thing;
Perhaps, the fancy'd you the man,
And what care I one farthing?
You think fhe's falfe, I'm fure she's kind
I take her body, you her mind;
Who has the better bargain?
RUST not to the fmiles of women,.
Nor their foft deluding arts;
Thofe are favours paid in common,
Only to entangle hearts,
Do not think we fuffer anguish,
Tho' its outward figns are seen;
We, like you, can seem to languish,
Yet be free as air within,
All the hopes our eyes do fend you,
Are but fhadows to delude;
Fly 'em, and they will attend you;
But they vanish if purfu'd:
Always fond of man's undoing;
Some we wound by being coy;
Gay and eafy, fmiles will ruin;
Grave and wife, our frowns destroy.
THO' I'm a man in every part,.
And much inclin❜d to change;
Yet I must stop my wandering heart,
When it defires to range.
I must indeed my Celia love,
Altho' I have enjoy'd;
And make that bliss still pleasant prove,
With which I have been cloy'd..
I must that fair one justice do,
I must still constant be;
For 'twere unkind to be untrue,
Whilft fhe is true to me.
Then, Cupid, I must teach you how
To make me ftill her flave;
That food to make me relish now,
Which once a furfeit gave.
You must, to play this game, at first,
Some jealousy contrive;
That she may vow I am the worst,
And falfeft man alive.
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