Thofe Eyes, tho' weeping, can no Pity move; Worthy our Grief! More worthy of our Love! Can be no more in Pain, than we at Eafe: Your vain Ambition fo unbounded grows, A Husband, worse than Statues, or than Trees; Then from fo dull a Care your Thoughts remove, And wafte not Sighs you only owe to Love. 'Tis pity, Sighs from fuch a Breaft fhould part, A A LETTER from Sea. Aireft, if Time and Absence can incline FA Your Heart to wand'ring Thoughts no more than mine; Then fhall my Hand, as changeless as my Mind, I Grieving Grieving yet more, when he reflects that you May you alike with kind Impatience burn, Love's Love's Slavery. RAVE Fops my Envy now beget, GR Who did my Pity move ; They by the right of wanting Wit, Are free from Cares of Love. Turks honour Fools, because they are By that Defect fecure From Slavery and Toils of War, Which all the reft endure. So I, who fuffer cold Neglect And Wounds from CELIA'S Eyes, Begin extremely to respect Thefe Fools that seem so wife. |