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The trembling strings about her fingers crowd,
And tell their joy for every kiss aloud,
Small force there needs to make them tremble so;
Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too?
Here Love takes stand, and while she charms the ear,
Empties his quiver on the listening deer.
Music so softens and disarms the mind,
That not an arrow does resistance find.
Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize,
And acts herself the triumph of her eyes :
So Nero once, with harp in hand, survey'd
His flaming Rome, and as it burn'd he play'd.


DESIGN or Chance makes others wive,

But Nature did this match contrive:
Eve might as well have Adam fied,
As she denied her little bed
To him, for whom Heav'n seem'd to frame
And measure out this only dame.

Thrice happy is that humble pair,
Beneath the level of all care !
Over whose heads those arrows fly
Of sad distrust and jealousy ;
Secured in as high extreme,
As if the world hel none but them.

To him the fairest nymphs do show
Like moving mountains topp'd with snow;
And every man a Polypheme
Does to his Galatea seem :
None may presume her faith to prove;
He proffers death that proffers love.

Ah, Chloris ! that kind Nature thus
From all the world had sever'd us;
Creating for ourselves us two,
As Love has me for only you !


SONG. PHILIIS, let's shun the common fate,

And let our love ne'er turn to hate. I'll doat no longer than I can Without being call'd a faithless man; When we begin to want discourse, And kindness seems to taste of force, As freely as we met we'll part; Each one possess'd of his own heart. Thus while rash fools themselves undo, We'll game, and leave off savers too. So equally the match we'll make, Each shall be glad to draw the stake: A smile of thine shall make my bliss, Or I'll enjoy thee in a kiss : If from this height our kindness fall, We'll bravely scorn to love at all : If thy affection first decay, I will the blame on nature lay. Alas! what cordial can remove The hasty fate of dying love? Thus we will all the world excel, In loving and in parting well.


OT, Celia, that I juster am,

Or better than the rest ;
For I would change each hour, like them,

Were not my heart at rest. But I am ty'd to very thee

By ev'ry thought I have: Thy face I only care to see,

Thy heart I only crave.

All that in woman is ador'd,

In thy dear self I find;
For the whole sex can but afford

The handsome and the kind.

Why then should I seek farther store,

And still make love anew? When change itself can give no more,

'Tis easy to be true.

GET you gone-you will undo me,

If you love me don't pursue me;
Let that inclination perish,
Which I dare no longer cherish.
With harmless thoughts I did begin,
But in the crowd Love enter'd in;
I knew him not, he was so gay,
So innocent, and full of play.
At ev'ry hour, in ev'ry place,
I either saw, or form'd your face :
All that in plays is finely writ,
Fancy for you and me did fit.
My dreams at night were all of you,
Such as, till then, I never knew.
I sported thus with young desire,
Never intending to go higher.
But now his teeth and claws are grown,
Let me the fatal lion shun;
You found me harmless, leave me so;
For, were I not, you'd leave me too.


EARS not my Phillis, how the birds,

Their feather'd mates salute?
They tell their passion in their words,

Must I alone be mute?
Phillis, without frown or smile,
Sat and knotted all the while,
The god of love, in thy bright eyes,

Doth like a tyrant reign;
But in thy heart, a child he lies,

Without his dart or flame.
Phillis, &c.
So many months in silence past,

And yet in raging love;
Might well deserve one word at last,

My passion should approve.
Phillis, &c.
Must then your faithful swain expire,

And not one look obtain;
Which he, to soothe his fond desire,

Might pleasingly explain?
Phillis, without frown or smile,
Sat and knotted all the while.


TO CHLORIS. LORD! how you take upon you still !

! How still expect to have your will,

And carry the dominion clear,

As you were still the same that once you were ! Fie, Chloris, 'tis a gross mistake,

Correct your errors, and be wise;
I kindly still your kindness take,

But yet have learn'd, though love I prize,
Your froward humours to despise,
And now disdain to call them cruelties.
I was a fool while you were fair,

And I had youth t excuse it;
And all the rest are so that lovers are:

I then myself your vassal sware,

And could be still so (which is rare), But on condition that you not abuse it. 'Tis beauty that to woman-kind

Gives all the rule and sway; Which once declining, or declib'd,

Men afterwards unwillingly obey. Yet still you have enough, and more than needs,

To rule a more rebellious heart than mine; For as your eyes still shoot, my heart still bleeds,

And I must be a subject still :

Nor is it much against my will,
Though I pretend to wrestle and repine.
Your beauties, sweet, are at their height,

And I must still adore ;
New years new graces still create,
Nay, maugre time, mischance, and fate,

You in your very ruins shall have more
Than all the beauties that have grac'd the world


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