By me indeed you are allow'd
The wonder of your kind d;

But be not of my judgment proud
Whom love has render'd blind.

PHILLIPS.

M

Y love was fickle once and changing,
Nor e'er would fettle in my heart,

From beauty ftill to beauty ranging,
In every face I found a dart.

'Twas firft a charming fhape enflav'd me,
An eye then gave the fatal ftroke;
Till by her wit CORINNA fav'd me,
And all my former fetters broke.

But now a long and lasting anguish
For BELVIDERA I endure;
Hourly I figh, and hourly languish,
Nor hope to find the wonted cure.
O 2

For

For here the falfe inconftant lover
After a thousand beauties fhown,
Does new furprising charms difcover,
And finds variety in one.

VOT, CELIA, that I juster am,

NOT

Or truer than the reft;

For I would change each hour like them,

Were it my intereft.

But I'm fo fix'd alone to thee

By every thought I have,

That should you now my heart set free "Twould be again your flave.

All that in woman is ador'd

In thy dear felf I find;

For the whole fex can but afford

The handfome, and the kind.

Not

Not to my virtue, but thy power
This conftancy is due,

When change itself can give no more
'Tis eafy to be true.

Tis not, CELIA, in our power

IT

To fay how long our love will last;
It may be we within this hour
May lofe the joys we now do taste :
The bleffed that immortal be
From change of love are only free.

Then fince we mortal lovers are,
Afk not how long our love will last ;
But while it does, let us take care
Each minute be with pleasure past :
Were it not madness to deny
To live, becaufe we're fure to die?

ETHERIDGE.

SAY,

AY, MYRA, why is gentle love
A ftranger to that mind,

Which pity and esteem can move ;
Which can be just and kind?

Is it because you fear to share
The ills that love moleft;

The jealous doubt, the tender care,
That rack the am'rous breast?

Alas! by fome degree of woe

We every blifs must gain:

The heart can ne'er a transport know,

That never feels a pain.

LYTTELTON.

C

YNTHIA frowns whene'er I woo her,
Yet fhe's vex'd if I give over;

Much fhe fears I fhould undo her,

But much more to lose her lover :
Thus in doubting the refuses,
And not winning thus fhe lofes.

Pr'ythee CYNTHIA look behind

you,

Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you,

Then too late defire will find you
When the power does forfake you.
Think, oh! think, the fad condition
To be paft, yet wish fruition.

04

CONGREVE.