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And shakes her wings and will not stay,
I puff the prostitute away:
Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
Fair Amoret is gone astray,
Pursue, and seek her, every lover ;
The wandering shepherdess discover.
Both studied, tho’ both seem neglected;
Affecting to seem unaffected.
Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect them;
Though certain aim and art direct them.
For that which in herself she prizes ;
FABLE, RELATED BY A BEAU TO ÆSOP.
A BAND, a Bob-wig, and a Feather,
Of vigorous youth,
Old solemn truth,
How happy she would be.
The Bob, he talked of management,
It proved such sunshine weather,
Sir John Vanbrugh.
LXXXIX. A PAIR WELL MATCHED. Fair Iris I love, and hourly I die, But not for a lip, nor a languishing eye ; She's fickle and false, and there we agree, For I am as false and as fickle as she; We neither believe what either can say, And neither believing, we neither betray. 'Tis civil to swear, and to say things of course; We mean not the taking for better or worse : When present we love; and when absent agree; I think not of Iris, nor Iris of me : The legend of Love no couple can find, So easy to part, or so equally join'd.
THE BAG OF THE BEE.
ABOUT the sweet bag of a bee,
Two Cupids fell at odds;
They vow'd to ask the gods.
And for their boldness stript them ; And taking thence from each his flame,
With rods of myrtle whipt them. Which done, to still their wanton cries,
When quiet grown she'd seen them, She kist, and wiped their dove-like eyes : And gave the bag between them.
As after noon, one summer's day,
Venus stood bathing in a river; Cupid a-shooting went that way,
New strung his bow, new fill'd his quiver With skill he chose his sharpest dart :
With all his might his bow he drew: Swift to his beauteous parent's heart
The too-well-guided arrow flew. I faint! I die! the goddess cried:
O cruel, could'st thou find none other To wreck thy spleen on : Parricide!
Like Nero, thou hast slain thy mother. Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak;
“ Indeed, mama, I did not know ye: Alas! how easy my mistake? I took you for your likeness, Chloe.”
THE QUESTION TO LISETTA.
DAMON AND CUPID.
The sun was now withdrawn,
The shepherds home were sped; The moon wide o'er the lawn
Her silver mantle spread;
DEAR Chloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face! Pr'ythee quit this caprice; and, as old Falstaff says, How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy
When Damon stay'd behind,
And saunter'd in the grove.
And give me love for love?
When Love, devoid of cares,
Lodg'd nymphs and swains by pairs;
Flies every sprightly lass;
In shades, or on the grass.”
And thus the swain reproves:
My game lay in the groves ;
To scatter round my arrows;
And maidens love like sparrows.
Straight lay your sheep-hook down;
And haste away to town.
None ask where Cupid dwells;
XCIV. ANSWER TO CHLOE JEALOUS. Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl’d: Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world.
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.