Whose numerous force that I withstood

So long, was not through any hope I cou'd
Escape their pow'r; but through despair,
Which oft makes Courage out of fear.
I trembling saw how you us'd those
Who tamely yielded without blows :
Had you but one of all them fpar'd,
I might, perhaps, have been 'enfnar'd,
And not have thus, e're I did yield,
Call'd Love's whole Force into the Field.

Yet now I'm Conquer'd, I will prove
Faithful as they that never ftrove.

All flames in matter, where too faft
They do not feize, the longer last.
Then blame not mine for moving flow,
Since all things durable are fo.

The Oak that's for three hundred Years
Defign'd, in growing one out-wears.
Whilft Flowers for a Seafon made

Quickly fpring up, and quickly fade.

Το

CHLORIS.

C

By the fame Author.

Hloris, you live ador'd by all,

And yet on none your Favours fall.
A ftranger Mistress ne'er was known,

You pay us all in Paying none.
We him of Avarice accuse,

Who what he has, does fear to use.

But what Disease of Mind fhall I
Call this thy hated Penury?

Thou wilt not give out of a ftore,
Which no Profufenefs can make poor.
Mifers, when Dead, may make amends;
And in their Wills enrich their Friends.

But

But when thou Dy'ft, thy Treasure dies,
And thou canst leave no Legacies.

What Madness is it then to spare,

When we want power to make an Heir?
Live Chloris then at the full rate,

Of thy great Beauty; and fince Fate
To Love, and Youth, is fo fevere,
Enjoy 'em freely while th'art here.
Some caution yet I'de have thee ufe,
When e're thou doft a Servant chuse.
We are not all for Lovers fit,

No more than Arms or Arts or Wit.
For Wisdom fome refpected are,
Some we fee pow'rful at the Bar;
Some for Preferment waste their time,
And the fteep Hill of Honour climb ;
Others of Love their business make,
In Love their whole Diversion take.
Take one of thofe, for in one Breast
Two Paffions live but ill at reft:

And even, of them, I'd have thee fly
All that take flame at every Eye.
All those that light and faithless are,
All that dare more than think thee fair.
Take one of Love who nothing fays,
And yet whom every word betrays.
Love in the Cradle pretty fhews,
And when't can speak, unruly grows.

THE

THE

PICTURE.

In Imitation of

ANACREON'S BATHILLU S.

By the Right Honourable the MARQUIS of NORMANE Y.

Hou Flatterer of all the Fair,

TH

Come, with all your skill, and care,

Draw me fuch a Shape, and Face,
As your Flatt'ry would difgrace.
Wish not that she would appear,
'Tis well for you she is not here;
Scarce can you with fafety fee
All her Charms describ'd by me,