In vain, fond youth, thy tears give o’er ; Suppress those sighs, and weep no more; Should heav'n and earth with thee combine, "Twere all in vain; since any pow'r, To crown thy love, must alter mine. But, if revenge can ease thy pain, [PRIOR.] THE merchant to secure his treasure My softest verse, my darling lyre When Chloe noted her desire That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, But with my numbers mix my sighs; Fair Chloe blush'd; Euphelia frown'd; Remark'd how ill we all dissembled. CELIA, hoard thy charms no more, To increase his heaps of money, Views with aching eyes his store, Tho' the wretch wants power to use it. Celia thus with endless arts Spends her days, her charms improving, Lab'ring still to conquer hearts, Yet ne'er tastes the sweets of loving. Views with pride her shape and face, While she starves with all her plenty. He must leave his gold behind, Celia's fate will still be worse, When her fading charms deceive her, Vain desire will be her curse When no mortal will relieve her. Celia hoard thy charms no more, Beauty's like the miser's treasure, Taste a little of thy store; What is beauty without pleasure? As the snow in vallies lying, As a tyrant when degraded By the slaves he once controll'd; So the nymph if none could move her Is contemn'd by every lover When her charms are growing old. Melancholic looks and whining, Fair ones, while your beauty's blooming Use your time, lest age resuming What your youth profusely lends, You are robb'd of all your glories, And condemn'd to tell old stories To your unbelieving friends. [WALSH.] CELIA, too late you would repent; The off'ring all your store Is now but like a pardon sent To one that's dead before. While at the first you cruel prov❜d, I thought you innocent as fair Your bounty of those favours shown Whose worth you first deface, Is melting valued medals down, |