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And not have suffer'd me to pierce my Heart
So deeply, in the best, and tend'reft Part;
To make a Lady that Subje&ion own,
Which is not to the meanest Roman known.
'Twas Diomed, who first a Goddess strook,
I from his Hand that cursid Example took ;
But he was far less Criminal than I,
I was a Lover, he an Enemy:
March like a Conqueror in Triumph now,
With Laurel-wreaths encompasing your Brow,
And render to the mighty Gods your Vow ;
So, as you pass, th' attending gazing Croud,
By their Applause shall speak your Courage loud;
Let your fad Captive in the Front appear,
With streaming Cheeks, and with dishevellid Hair,
Thro'all her Grief and Wounds most eminently fair.
Such Lips were form'd for kinder Wounds, than these,
Wounds made by Lovers furious Ecstasies :
Though like a Torrent I was hurry'd on,
A Slave to Passion, which I cou'd not fhun;
I might have only pierc'd her tender Ear
With threat'ning Language, such as Virgins fear;
Fear having chilld the Current of her Blood,
Pale as a Parian Marble Statue stood
The senseless Frame.Then shook her trembling Knecs,
As when the Winds do whistle thro' the Trees,
Or foftly curl the Surface of the Seas :
So flender Rushes, easily inclin'd,
By ev'ry Blast are ruffled by the Wind;
Tears, which Suspense did for a while restrain,
Gush'd forth, and down her Cheeks the Deluge ran,

As

As when the San does by a pow'rful Beam
Diffolve the Frost, it runs into a Stream':
The lamentable Object ftruck me dead,
And Tears of Blood to quench those Tears I Ahed ,
Thrice at her Feet the proftrate Suppliant fell,
And thrice did the repulse the Criminal:
What wou'd I not, your Anger to abate,
Redeem

your Favour, or remove your Hate?
To your Revenge ng Means or Method Spare;
Revenge, alas! is eafy to the Fair:
Bút lest some eloquent remaining Sign
Should still reproach me with fo black a Crime,
Let no Diforder in yoar Face appear,
From your bright Eyes let there not "scape a Tear,
And once again compose your scatter'd Hair,

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E L E G Y' VIII:

He curses a Bawd, for going about to debauch

bis Mistress.

By Sir CHARLES SIDLEY.

TH
Here is a Báwd renown'd in Venus' Wars,

And dreadful till with honourable Scars :
Her Youth and Beauty, Craft and Guile fupply,
Sworn Foe to all Degrees of Chastity:
Dyplas, who firt taught Love-fick Maids the Way"
To cheat the Bridegroord' on the Wedding

Day,

And

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And then a hundred subtle Tricks devis'd,
Wherewith the am'rous Theft might be disguis?d;
Of Pigeons-Blood, squeez'd from the panting Heart
With Surfeit-Water, to contract the Part,
She knows the Use: whilt the good Man betray'do
With eager Arms hugs the false bleeding Maid.
Of Herbs and Spells the tries the guilty Force,
The Poison of a Mare that goes to Horse.
Cleaving the Midnight Air upon a Switch,
Some for a Bawd, most take her for a Witch.
Each Morning sees her reeling to her Bed,
Her native Blue o’ercome with Drunken Red.
Her ready Tongue ne'er wants an useful Lie,
Soft moving Words, nor charming Flattery.

Thus I o'erheard her to my Lucia speak,
Young Damon's Heart wilt thou for ever break ?
He long has lov’d thee, and by me he sends-
To learn thy Motions, which he still attends.
If to the Park thou go't, the Plays are ill;
If to the Plays, he thinks the Air wou'd kill.
The other Day he gaz'd upon thy Face,
As he wou'd grow a Statue in the Place;
And who indeed does not like a new Star,
Beauty, like thine, Atrikes Wonders from afar.
Alas, methinks thou art ill-drest to-night,
This Point's too poor ; thy Necklace is not right.
This Gown was by fome botching Taylor made,
It spoile thy Shape; this Fucus is ill laid.
Hear me, and be as happy as thou'rt Fair,
Damon is Rich, and what thou want'ft, can spare.

Like

Like thine his face, like thine his Eyes are thought,
Wou'd he not buy, he might himself be bought.
Fair Lucia blush'd ; It is a sign of Grace,
Dypsas reply'd, that Red becomes thy Face.
All Lovers now, by what they give, are weigh’d,
And she is best belov'd, that is best paid.
The Sun-burnt Latines, in old Tatius' Reign,
Did to one Man perhaps their Love restrain.
Venus in her Æneas' City rules,
And all adore her Deity, but Fools.
Go on, ye Fair, Chafte only let such live,
As none will ask, and know not how to give.
How prettily you frown? But I'll speak on,
Hear me, another Day 'will be your own.
Virtuous Penelope is said t' have try'd,
With a strong Bow, each lufty Lover's side.
Nor did Lucretia kill herself for Rage,
But Love of Tarquin, in that colder Age.
To the young Prince she vow'd, ne'er more to join
In dull Embraces with her Collatine.
To keep her Word she dy'd
Life-steals away, and our best Hours are gone,
Ere the true Use, or Worth of them, be known.
Things long neglected of themselves decay ;
What we forbear, Time rudely makes his Prey.
Beauty is best preserv'd by Exercise,
Nor for that Task can one, or few suffice.
Wou'dit thou

grow

Rich, thou must from many take ;
From one 'twere hard continually to rake.
Without new Gowns, and Coaches, who can live?
What does thy Poet, but new Verses give ?

А

1

A Poet, the last thing that Earth does breed,
Whose Wit, for Sixpence, any one may read.
Him that will give, to Homer I prefer,
To give is an ingenious Thing, I swear:
Despise not any can a Present make;
It matters not from whom, but what we take.
Nor with the Sound of Title be thou caught;
For nothing can with empty Names be bought.
Hang the poor Lover, and his Pedigree;
The thriving Merchant, or fat Judge, give me.
If any beardless Stripling ask a Night,
And think thee paid with mutual Delight;
Bid him go earn thy Price among

the Men,
And when he has it, come to thee again.
Love truly none, but seem in Love with all,
And at old Friends to thy new Lover rail.
Sometimes deny, 'twill Appetite procure ;
The sharp-set Hawks will stoop to any Lure.
"Then grant again, left he a Habit get
Of living from thee; but be sure thou let
No empty Lover in: murmur fometimes,
And as first hurt, reproach him with thy Crimes.
Seem jealous, when thou'st been thy self to blame,
'Twill stop his Mouth, if thou the first complain.
All thou hast done be ready to forswear:
For Lover's Oaths fair Venus has no Ear.
Whilft he is with thee, let fome Woman bring
Some Indian Stuff, or Foreign precious Thing;
Which thou must say thou want'ft, and he must buy,
Tho' for it fix Months hence in Goal he lie.

M

Thy

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