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Ah Phillis! if you would love,

That shepherd do not hear.

None even had so strange an art

His passion to convey
Into a liftning virgin's heart,

And steal her soul away.
Fly, fly betimes for fear you give

"Occafion for your fate,
In vain said she, in vain I strive ;

Alas ! 'tis now too late,


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AN love be controul'd by advice,

Can madness and reason agree? O Molly, who'd ever be wise,

If madness is loving of thee ? Let sages pretend to despise

The joys they want spirits to taste, Let us seize old time as he flies,

And the bleslings of life while they last.



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Dull wisdom but adds to our cares;

Brisk love will improve ev'ry joy,
Too soon we may meet with gray hairs,

Too late may repent being coy.
Then Molly, for what should we stay

Till our best blood begins to run cold?
Qur youth we can have but to day,

We may always find time to grow old,

MORTALS, learn your lives to measure

Not by length of time, but pleasure ;
Now the hours invite, comply ;
While you idly pause, they fly:
Bleft, a nimble pace they keep,
But in torment, then they creep.

Mortals, learn your lives to measure
Not by length of time, but pleasure ;
Soon your spring must have a fall;
Lofing youth, is losing all :
Then you'll alk, but none will give,
And may linger, but not live.


ID me when forty winters more

Have furrow'd deep my pallid brow,
When from my head, a scanty store,
Lankly the wither'd tresses flow

When the warm tide, that bold and strong

Now rolis impetuous on and free, Languid and slow scarce creeps along,

Then bid me court fobriety.

Nature who form'd the varied scene

Of rage and calm, of frost and fire, Unerring guide, could only mean,

That age should reason, youth defire. Shall then that rebel man, presume

(Inverting nature's law) to seize The dues of age in youth's high bloom,

And join impossibilities ?

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Now let me waste the frolic May

In wanton joys and wild excess,

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In revel sport and laughter gay

And mirth, and rosy chearfulness;
Woman, the soul of all delights,

And wine the aid of love be near;
All charms me that to joy incites,

And every she that's kind is fair.


ELL me not I my time mispend,

"Tis time loft to reprove me ; Pursue thou thine, I have my end,

So CHLORIS only love me.

Tell me not others' flocks are full,

Mine poor, let them despise me
Who more abound in milk and wool,

So CHLORIS only prize me.

Tire others' easier ears with these

Unappertaining stories;


He never feels the world's disease

Who cares not for her glories.

For pity, thou that wifer art,

Whose thoughts lie wide of mine, Let me alone with my own heart, And I'll ne'er



Nor blame hím, whoe'er blames my wit,

That seeks no higher prize, Chan in unenvy'd shades to fit, And fing of CHLORIS' eyes.

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HY, cruel creature, why so bent,

To vex a tender heart? To gold and title you relent;

Love throws in vain his dart.


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