She may receive and own my flame, For though the strictest prudes should know it, She'll pass for a most virtuous dame, And I for an unhappy poet. Then too, alas! when she shall tear The lines some younger rival sends, She'll give me leave to write I fear, For as our different ages move, 'Tis so ordained, would fate but mend it! That I shall be past making love When she begins to comprehend it. CXVII. AN ODE. 'HE merchant, to secure his treasure, THE Conveys it in a borrowed name : Euphelia serves to grace my measure, My softest verse, my darling lyre, When Cloe noted her desire, That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, But with my numbers mix my sighs; Fair Cloe blushed: Euphelia frowned: I sung and gazed: I played and trembled : And Venus to the Loves around Remarked, how ill we all dissembled. CXVIII. AMBROSE PHILLIPS, 1671-1749. THE STRAY NYMPH. EASE your music, gentle swains : CE Saw ye Delia cross the plains? Every thicket, every grove, White her skin as mountain-snow; In her cheek the roses blow; And her eye is brighter far Over fountains ever-flowing. Like the tendrils of the vine Tell me, shepherds, have ye seen My delight, my love, my queen? CXIX. THOMAS PARNELL, 1679-1718. M SONG. Y days have been so wond'rous free, With careless ease from tree to tree, Were but as blest as I. Ask gliding waters, if a tear Of mine increased their stream? But now my former days retire, Ye nightingales, ye twisting pines! |