Dear couz, faid Hermes in a fright,
For Heaven's fake! keep your darts : good night.
ESOLVE me, Cloe, what is this:
Or forfeit me one precious kiss.
'Tis the firft offspring of the Graces;
Bears different forms in different places;
Acknowledg'd fine, where'er beheld;
Yet fancied finer, when conceal'd.
"Twas Flora's wealth, and Circe's charm;
Pandora's box of good and harm :
'Twas Mars's wifh, Endymion's dream;
Apelles' draught, and Ovid's theme.
This guided Thefeus through the maze;
And fent him home with life and praise :
But this undid the Phrygian boy;
And blew the flames that ruin'd Troy.
This fhew'd great kindness to old Greece,
And help'd rich Jafon to the fleece.
This through the Eaft juft vengeance hurl'd,
And loft poor Anthony the world.
Injur'd, though Lucrece found her doom,
This banish'd tyranny from Rome.
Appeas'd, though Lais gain'd her hire;
This fet Perfepolis on fire.
For this Alcides learn'd to fpin:
His club laid down, and lion's skin.
For this Apollo deign'd to keep,
With fervile care, a mortal's fheep.
For this the father of the Gods,
Content to leave his high abodes,
In borrow'd figures loosely ran,
Europa's bull, and Leda's swan,
For this he reaffumes the nod
(While Semele commands the God);
Launces the bolt, and shakes the poles;
Though Momus laughs, and Juno fcolds.
Here listening Cloe smil'd, and faid;
Your riddle is not hard to read :
I guess it-Fair-one, if you do;
Need I, alas! the theme pursue ?
For this, thou fee'ft, for this I leave,
Whate'er the world thinks wife or grave,
Ambition, bufinefs, friendship, news,
My useful books, and serious Muse.
For this, I willingly decline
The mirth of feasts, and joys of wine;
And chufe to fit and talk with thee
(As thy great orders may decree)
Of cocks and bulls, and flutes and fiddles,
Of idle tales, and foolish riddles.
WHAT Nymph fhould I admire, or truft,
But Cloe beauteous, Cloe juft?
What Nymph fhould I defire to see,
But her who leaves the plain for me?
To whom fhould I compofe the lay,
But her who liftens when I play ?
To whom in fong repeat my cares,
But her who in my forrow shares?
For whom should I the garland make,
But her who joys the gift to take,
And boasts she wears it for my fake?
In love am I not fully bleft?
Lifetta, pr'ythee tell the rest.
URE Cloe juft, and Cloe fair,
Deferves to be your only care:
But, when you and she to-day
Far into the wood did stray,
And I happen'd to pass by;
Which
But, when your cares to her you fing,
Yet dare not tell her whence they spring;
Does it not more afflict your heart,
That in thofe cares fhe bears a part?
When you the flowers for Cloe twine,
Why do you to her garland join
The meanest bud that falls from mine?
Simpleft of fwains! the world may see,
Whom Cloe loves, and who loves me.
THE GARLAND.
THE pride of every grove I chose,
The violet fweet, and lily fair,
The dappled pink, and blushing rofe,
To deck my charming Cloe's hair.
At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place
Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flowers lefs 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.
Undreft at evening, when the found
Their odours loft, their colours past; She chang'd her look, and on the ground Her garland and her eye fhe caft.
That eye dropt fense distinct and clear,
As any Mufe's tongue could speak,
When from its lid a pearly tear
Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.
Diffembling what I knew too well,
My love, my life, faid I, explain
This change of humour: pr'ythee tell :
That falling tear-what does it mean?
VII.
She figh'd; the fmil'd: and to the flowers
Pointing, the lovely Moralift faid;
See, friend, in fome few fleeting hours,
See yonder, what a change is made.
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 fung;
The amorous youth around her bow'd;
At night her fatal, knell, was rung;
I faw, and kifs'd her in her fhrowd.
Such as fhe is, who dy'd to-day :
Such I, alas! may be to-morrow, Go, Damon, bid thy Mufe difplay The justice of thy Cloe's forrow.
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