L

OVE and Folly were at play,

Both too wanton to be wife, They fell out, and in the fray Folly put out Cupid's eyes.

Straight the criminal was try'd,
And had this punishment affign'd,

Folly fhould to Love be ty'd,

And condemn'd to lead the blind.

A

N amorous fwain to Juno pray'd,
And thus his fuit did move;

Give me, oh! give me the dear maid,
Or take away my love.

The Goddess thunder'd from the skies,
And granted his request ;

To make him happy, made him wise,
And drove her from his breast.

S

WAIN, thy hopeless paffion fmother,*

Perjur'd CELIA loves another;

In his arms I faw her lying,

Panting, kiffing, trembling, dying;

There the fair deceiver fwore,

All she did to you before.

Oh!

*THE turn in this fong is ingeniously copied out of Ovid's

epiftle from Oenone to Paris.

Cum Paris Oenone poterit fpirare relicta,

Ad fontem Xanthi verfa recurret aqua;

Xanthe retro propera, verfæque recurrite lymphæ,

Suftinet Oenone deferuiffe Paris.

Oenone left, when Paris can furvive,

The waves of Xanthus fhall reverse their course;
Turn waters, turn, flow upward to your fource,
Oenone's left, yet Paris bears to live.

Oh! faid you, when the deceives me,
When that conftant creature leaves me,
Ifis' waters back shall fly,

And leave their oozy channels dry;
Turn, ye waters, leave your fhore,
Perjur'd CELIA loves no more.

UPID, instruct an amorous swain
Some way to tell the nymph his pain
To common youths unknown;

To talk of fighs, and flames, and darts,
Of bleeding wounds, and burning hearts,
Are methods vulgar grown.

What need'ft thou tell? (the God reply'd) That love the fhepherd cannot hide,

The nymph will quickly find; When Phoebus does his beams display, To tell men gravely that 'tis day,

Is to fuppofe them blind.

L

OVE's a dream of mighty treasure,
Which in fancy we poífefs;

In the folly lies the pleasure,
Wisdom always makes it lefs.

When we think by paffion heated
We a Goddess have in chace,
Like Ixion we are cheated,

And a gaudy cloud embrace.

Happy only is the lover

Whom his mistress well deceives;

Seeking nothing to discover,

He contented lives at eafe.

While the wretch who would be knowing What the fair one would disguise,

Labours for his own undoing,

Changing happy to be wife.

ELL me no more I am deceiv'd,
That CHLOE's falfe and common;

I always knew (at least believ'd)

She was a very woman :
As fuch I lik'd, as fuch carefs'd,
She ftill was conftant when poffefs'd,
She could do more for no man.

But oh! her thoughts on others ran,

And that

you think a hard thing?

Perhaps the fancied you

the man;

And what care I one farthing?

You think fhe's falfe, I'm fure she's kind,

I take her body, you her mind,
Who has the better bargain?

CONGREVE.