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

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

"Twas firft a charming shape 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.

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

OT, CELIA, that I jufter am,

NOT,

Or truer than the reft;

For I would change each hour like them,
Were it my interest.

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 slave.

All that in woman is ador'd

In thy dear felf I find;

For the whole sex can but afford

The handsome, 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

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?

The jealous doubt, the tender care,

That rack the am'rous breast?

Alas! by fome degree of woe

We every blifs muft gain:

The heart can ne'er a transport know,

That never feels a pain.

LYTTELTON,

CY

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.