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How should we then secure our hearts;
Loves pow'r we all must feel;
In ice his flame conceal.
*Tis thou alone, fair Julia, know,
Canít quench my fierce desire;
But with an equal fire.
BY SIR JOHN VAN BRUGH*.
Smile at Love, and all his arts,
The charming Cynthia cried ;
A wounded swain replied:
Once free, and blest, as you are now,
I trifled with his charms,
And sported with his arms :
'Till urg'd too far-Revenge, he cries !
A fatal shaft he drew,
And to my heart it flew :
To tear it thence I tried in vain,
To strive, I quickly found, Was only to increase the pain,
And mortify the wound;
Too well, alas ! I fear, you
know What anguish I endure, Since what your eyes alone could do,
Your heart alone can cure.
BY THE EARL OF ROCHESTER,
HILST on those lovely looks I gaze,
To see a wretch pursuing, In raptures
of a bleft amaze,
His fate is too aspiring,
Dies wishing and admiring.
But if this murder you'd forego,
Your flave from death removing, Let me your art of charming know,
Or learn you mine of loving.
Then if no gentle glance return
A silent leave to speak,
Must sigh, alas! and break.
Y love was fickle once and changing,
Nor c'er would settle in my heart; From beauty ftill to beauty ranging, In every
face I found a dart.
'Twas first a charming shape enslav'd me,
then gave the fatal stroke: Till by her wit Corinna sav’d me,
And all my former fetters broke.
ITH women I have pass’d my days,
And ev'ry minute bless'd;
No wish disturb’d my rest.
I often prais’d a handsome face,
Extoll'd a sparkling eye,
Without a real sigh.