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Oh! turn away those cruel eyes,
The stars of my undoing;
Punish their blindly impious pride
Yet no new suff'rings can prepare
Lovers will doubt thou canst entice
No other for thy fuel;
1 N vain, fond youth, thy tears give o'er;
What more, alas.! can Flavia do? Thy truth I own, thy fate deplore:
All are not happy that are true.
Suppress those sighs, and weep no more j 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,
I'll sooth the ills I cannot cure, Tell that I drag a hopeless chain,
And all that I inflict, endure.
1 H E merchant to secure his treasure
Euphelia serves to grace my measure,
My softest verse, my darling lyre
Upon Euphelia's toilet lay, When Chloe noted her desire
That I should sing, that I should play.
My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise,
Fair Chloe blush'd; Euphelia frown'd;
I sung and gaz'd, I play'd and trembled; And Venus to the loves around
Remark'd how ill we all dissembled.
Cielia, hoard thy charms no more,
Beauty's like the miser's treasure; Still the vain possessor's poor,
What are riches without pleasure? Endless pains the miser takes
To increase his heaps of money, Lab'ring bees his pattern makes,
Yet he fears to taste his honey.
Views with aching eyes his store,
Trembling lest he chance to lose it, Pining still for want of more,
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,
Fancying still she's under twenty j Age brings wrinkles on apace,
While she starves with all her plenty. Soon or late they both will find
Time their idol from them sever, He must leave his gold behind,
Lock'd within his grave for ever.
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,
Soon dissolves and runs away;
At approaching age decay.
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,
Are th' effects your rigours move; Soft caresses, amorous glances, Melting sighs, transporting trances,
Are the blest effects of love.