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Who now, I fear, while I these joys express,
Begin to think how you may make them less:
The found of love makes your soft heart afraid,
And guard itself, though but a child invade,
And innocently at your white breaft throw
A dart as white, a ball of new-fall'n fnow.



HAT which her flender waift confin'd,
Shall now my joyful temples bind':
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.

It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer:
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
Did all within this circle move!

A narrow compass! and yet there
Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair:
Give me but what this riband bound,

Take all the reft the fun goes round.


ERE, Cælia! for thy fake I part


With all that grew fo near my heart:

The paffion that I had for thee,
The faith, the love, the conftancy!
And, that I may successful prove,
Transform myfelf to what you love,

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Fool that I was! fo much to prize
Those fimple virtues you despise:
Fool! that with fuch dull arrows ftrove,
Or hop'd to reach a flying dove.
For you, that are in motion ftill,
Decline our force, and mock our skill:
Who, like Don Quixote, do advance
Against a wind-mill our vain lance.

Now will I wander through the air,
Mount, make a stoop at every Fair;
And, with a fancy unconfin'd,
(As lawless as the fea or wind)
Purfue wherefoe'er you fly,


And with your various thoughts comply.
The formal stars do travel so,

As we their names and courfes know;
And he that on their changes looks,
Would think them govern'd by our books:
But never were the clouds reduc'd
To any art: the motion us'd

By thofe free vapors are fo light,
So frequent, that the conquer'd sight
Defpairs to find the rules that guide
Thofe gilded fhadows as they flide.
And therefore of the fpacious air
Jove's royal confort had the care:
And by that power did once escape,
Declining bold Ixion's rape;
She with her own resemblance grac'd
A fhining cloud, which he embrac'd.


Such was that image, so it smil'd
With feeming kindness, which beguil'd
Your Thyrfis lately, when he thought
He had his fleeting Calia caught.
'Twas fhap'd like her; but for the Fair,
He fill'd his arms with yielding air.

A fate for which he grieves the less,
Because the Gods had like fuccefs.
For in their story, one, we fee,
Purfues a nymph, and takes a tree:
A fecond, with a lover's hafte,
Soon overtakes whom he had chac'd;
But she that did a Virgin seem,
Poffeft, appears a wandering stream:
For his fuppofed Love, a third
Lays greedy hold upon a bird;
And ftands amaz'd, to find his dear
A wild inhabitant of th' air.

To thefe old tales such nymphs as you
Give credit, and ftill make them new;
The amorous now like wonders find,
In the fwift changes of your mind.
But, Cælia, if you apprehend
The Mufe of your incenfed friend:
Nor would that he record your blame,
And make it live, repeat the fame;
Again deceive him, and again,

And then he swears he 'll not complain.

For ftill to be deluded fo,

Is all the pleasure lovers know;


Who, like good falconers, take delight,
Not in the quarry, but the flight.

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And yet he shines as bright as you,
If brightness could our fouls fubdue.


'Tis not the pretty things you fay,

Nor those you write,

Which can make Thyrfis' heart your prey:

For that delight,

The graces of a well-taught mind,

In fome of our own fex we find.


No, Flavia! 'tis your love I fear;

Love's fureft darts,

Those which fo feldom fail him, are

Headed with hearts :.

Their very fhadows make us yield;
Diffemble well, and win the field.



EE! how the willing earth gave way, Sothottie

See! how the mould, as loth to leave

So fweet a burden, ftill doth cleave

Close to the nymph's ftain'd garment! Here
The coming spring would first appear;

And all this place with roses strow,

If busy feet would let them grow.

Here Venus fmil'd, to fee blind Chance

Itself, before her Son, advance;

And a fair image to present,

Of what the Boy fo long had meant.
'Twas fuch a chance as this made all
The world into this order fall;
Thus the first lovers, on the clay
Of which they were compofed lay:
So in their prime, with equal grace,
Met the first patterns of our race.

Then blush not, Fair! or on him frown,
Or wonder how you both came down ;
But touch him, and he 'll tremble ftrait :
How could he then fupport your weight?
How could the youth, alas! but bend
When his whole heaven upon him lean'd?
If aught by him amifs were done,
'Twas that he let you rife fo foon.


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