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With such mysterious forrow laid :
Nor can my rage, nor anger, move :
Of Venus what did I implore ?
If here or there his glances flew ?
Of Beauty quickly lost its pride :
Or withering wreath, or fleeting youth;
And Time less permanent than Truth.
Fall uncontrould, my tears, and free;
Shall lie wrapt up, evin in my hearse;
My answer to thy dubious verse.
Answer to CroE JEALOUS, in the fame Stile;
the Author fick.
Dear idol of my panting heart,
Heave thou no figh, nor shed a tear;
yet my half-clos’d eye may view,
For ever be thy bosom freed:
Content I hasten to the dead.
Shall with his amorous parly move thee;
Who dying thus, persists to love thee.
A B E T T E R
ANSW E R.
Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd: Pr'ythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff says) Let us ev’n talk a little like folks of this world.
11. How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy
The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping? Those looks were design'd to inspire love and joy : More ordinary eyes may serve people for weeping.
Your judgment at once, and my passion, you wrong : You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit:
Od’s-life! muft one swear to the truth of a fong?
What I speak, my fair Cloe, and what I write, fhews
The difference there is betwixt nature and art : I court others in verse; but I love thee in prose :
And they have my whimfies, but thou hast my heart."
The God of us verse-men (you know, child) the Sun,
How after his journeys he sets up his rest:
To thee my delight in the evening I come :
And let us like Horace and Lydia agree :
As he was a poet fublimer than me.
HE Trojan Swain had judg’d the great dispute,
And Beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit;
Yield, fister; rival, yield : naked, you see,
The warrior goddess with disdain reply'd :
To a young GENTLEMAN in Love.
A TAL E.
ROM public noise and factious trife,
From all the busy ills of life,
wearied fout to rest.
To painted roofs and thining spires