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Does it not more afflict

your

heart,
That in those cares the bears a part ?
When you the flowers for Cloe twine,
Why do you to her garland join
The meanest bud that falls from mine?
Simplest of (wains ! the world may fee,
Whom Cloe loves, and who loves me.

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Τ Η Ε

G A R L A N D..

THE pride of every grove I chose,

The violet sweet, and lily fair,
The dappled pink, and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Cloe's hair.

II.
At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place

Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flowers less blooming than her face,
The scent lefs fragrant than her breath.

III.
The flowers she wore along the day :

And every nymph and shepherd faid,
That in her hair they look’d more gay
Than glowing in their native bed.

IV.
Undrest at evening, when she found

Their odours loft, their colours past;
She chang'd her look, and on the ground
Her garland and her eye the caft.

5

V. That

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That eye dropt sense distinct and clear,
As
any
Muse's
tongue

could speak,
When from its lid a pearly tear
Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek,

VI. Dissembling what I knew top well,

My love, my life, said I, explain
This change of humour : pr’ythee tell :
That falling tear—what does it mean?

VII.
She figh’d; she smild: and to the flowers

Pointing, the lovely Moralist said;
See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,
See yonder, what a change is made.

VIII.
Ah me! the blooming pride of May,

And that of Beauty, are but one :
At morn both flourish bright and gay ;
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone.

IX.
At dawn poor Stella danc'd and sung ;

The amorous youth around her bow'd;
At night her fatal knell was rung;
I saw, and kiss'd her in her shrowd.

X.
Such as she is, who dy'd to-day :

Such I, alas! may be to-morrow :
Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display

The justice of thiy Cloe's sorrow.

The

X.
Why then I weep, forbear to know:

Fall uncontrould, my tears, and free:
O Damon ! 'tis the only woe,
I ever yet conceal'd from thee.

XI.
The secret woand with which I bleed

Shall lie wrapt up, evin in my hearse;
But on my tomb-stone thou fhalt read

My answer to thy dubious verse.

Answer to CLOE JEALOUS, in the same Stile;

the AUTHOR fick.

I.
YES,
ES, fai rest proof of Beauty's power,

Dear idol of my panting heart,
Nature points this my fatal hour :
And I have liv'd ; and we must part.

II.
While now I take my

last adieu, Heave thou no sigh, nor shed a tear; Left yet my half-clos'd

eye may view,
On earth an object worth its care.

IIL.
From Jealousy's tormenting strife

For ever be thy bosom freed :
That nothing may disturb thy life,

Content I haften to the dead,

IV. Yet

IV.
Yet when some better-fated youth

Shall with his amorous parly move thee;
Reflect one moment on his truth

Who dying thus, perfifts to love thee.

A BETTER

ANSWER.

DE
EAR Cloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face !

Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd: Pr’ythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff fays) Let us ev’n talk a little like folks of this world.

11. How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to deftroy

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.

III.
To be vext at a trifle or two that I writ,

Your judgment at once, and my passion, you wrong : You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit: Od's-life! must one swear to the truth of a song?

IV. 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 whimsies, but thou hast my heart."

VOL. İ.

K

V. The

The LADY who offers her LOOKING-GLASS

to Venus. Taken from an Epigram of PLATO. VENUS, take iny votive glass;

Since I am not what I was ; What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see.

CLOE

JE AL OU S.

I.
FORBEAR to ask me, why I weep;

Vext Cloe to her shepherd said ;
"Tis for my two poor straggling sheep,
Perhaps, or for my squirrel dead.

II. For mind I what

you late have writ?
Your subtle questions and replies ?
Emblems, to teach a female wit
The ways, where changing Cupid flies?
,

III.
Your riddle purpos’d to rehearse

The general power that beauty has :
Bat why did no peculiar verse
Describe one charm of Cloe's face?

IV. The

a

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