LOVE'S SLAVERY.

GR

RAVE fops my envy now beget,
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 flavery and toils of

war,

Which all the rest endure.

So I, who fuffer cold neglect

And wounds from CELIA's eyes,

Begin extremely to refpect

These fools that feem fo wife.

'Tis true, they fondly fet their hearts

On things of no delight;
To pafs all day for men of parts,
They pafs alone the night:

But CELIA never breaks their reft;
Such fervants fhe difdains;
And fo the fops are dully bleft,

While I endure her chains.

The DR E A M.

EADY to throw me at the feet Of that fair nymph whom I adore,. Impatient thofe delights to meet, Which I enjoy'd the night before;

By her wonted fcornful brow,
Soon the fond mistake I find;
IXION mourn'd his error fo,

When JUNO's form the cloud refign'd,

Sleep, to make its charms more priz'd Than waking joys, which most prevail, Had cunningly itself disguis'd

In a fhape that could not fail.

There my CELIA's fnowy arms,

Breafts, and other parts more dear,

Expofing new and unknown charms,
To my tranfported foul appear.

Then you fo much kindness show,
My defpair deluded flies;
And indulgent dreams bestow
What your cruelty denies.

Blush not that your image love
Naked to my fancy brought;
'Tis hard, methinks, to disapprove
The joys I feel without your fault.

Wonder not a fancy'd blifs

Can fuch griefs as mine remove; That honour as fantastick is,

Which makes you slight such constant loye.

The virtue which you value fo,

Is but a fancy frail and vain ;
Nothing is folid here below,
Except my love, and your disdain.

To one who accused him of being too

fenfual in his Love.

T

HINK not, my fair, 'tis fin or fhame,
To bless the man who fo adores;

Nor give fo hard, unjust a name,

To all thofe favours he implores.

Beauty is Heav'n's moft bounteous gift efteem'd, Because by love men are from vice redeem'd.

Yet wish not vainly for a love

From all the force of nature clear;

That is reserv'd for those above,

And 'tis a fault to claim it here.

For fenfual joys ye

fcorn that we

fhould love ye;

But love without 'em is as much above ye,

L

The WARNING.

OVERS, who wafte your thoughts and youth
In paffion's fond extremes ;

Who dream of womens love and truth,

And doat upon your

dreams :

I should not here your fancy take
From fuch a pleasing state,

Were you not fure at last to wake,
your fault too late.

And find

Then learn betimes, the love which crowns
Our cares, is all but wiles;
Compos'd of falfe fantastick frowns,
And foft diffembling fmiles.

With anger, which fometimes they feign,
They cruel tyrants prove;
And then turn flatterers again,
With as affected love.

As if fome injury were meant
To those they kindly us'd,
Those lovers are the most content,
That have been still refus'd.

Since each has in his bofom nurst
A falfe and fawning foe;
'Tis juft and wife, by ftriking firft,
To 'scape the fatal blow.