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S. Strive not, faireít, to unbind me;

Let me keep my pleafing chain:
Charms that first to love inclin'd me,

Will for ever love maintain.

Wou'd you send my heart a roving?

First to love I must forbear.
Wou'd you have me cease from loving?

You must cease from being fair.

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C. Since, my Strephon, you so kind are,

All pretensions to resign;
Trust Chlorinda.--You may find her
Less severe than


divine. Strephon struck with joy beholds her,

Wou'd have spoke but knew not how;
But he look'd such things as told her

More than all his speech cou'd do.

To CHLORIND A. By the Same.

S Does

on thy fruitless pafion wait

EE, Strephon, what unhappy fate

Does on thy fruitless passion wait,
Adding to flame fresh fuel :
Rather than thou should'It favour find,
The kindeft foul on earth's unkind,

And the belt nature cruel.
The goodness, which Chlorinda shews,
From mildness and good breeding flows,

But must not love be ftil'd :
Or else 'tis such as mothers try,
When wearied with incessant cry;.

They still a froward child.
She with a graceful mien and air,
Genteely civil, yet fevere,

Bids thee all hopes give o'er.
Friendship she offers, pure and free ;
And who, with such a friend as they

Cou'd want, or wish for more ? Vol. VI.



The cur that swam along the flood,
His mouth well fill'd with morsel good,

(Too good for common cur !)
By visionary hopes betray'd,
Gaping to catch a fleeting fhade,

Loft what he held before.
Mark, Strephon, and apply this tale,
Left love and friendship both should fail ;

Where then wou'd be thy hope ?
Of hope, quoth Strephon, talk not, friend;
And for applying - know, the end

Of ev'ry cur’s a rope,

The Fable of Ixion. To CHLORIND A.

By the Same.

I Was one of those pragmatic fellows,




Who claim a right to kiss the hand
Of the best lady in the land;
Demonstrating by dint of reason,
That impudence in love's no treason.

He let his fancy foar much higher ;
And venturid boldly to aspire
To Juno's high and mighty grace,
And woo'd the goddess face to face.


tell us ;

That he got up

What mortal e'er had whims fo odd,
To think of cuckolding a God?
For she was both Jove's wife and sister,

the rascal wou'd have kiss'd her.
How he got up to heav'n's high palace,
Not one of all the

It must be therefore understood,



he cou'd.
Nor is it, that I know, recorded,
How bows were made, and speeches worded ;
So, leaving this to each one's guess,
I'll only tell you the success.

But first I stop awhile to thew
What happen'd lately here below.

Chlorinda, who beyond compare
Of all the fair ones is most fair;
Chlorinda, by the Gods defign'd
To be the pattern of her kind,

every charm of face and mind ;
Glanc'd lightning from her eyes so blue,
And shot poor Strephon through and through,
He, over head and ears her lover,
Try'd all the


he cou'd to move her ;
He figh’d, and vow'd, and pray'd, and cry'd,
And did a thousand things beside:
She let him figh, and pray, and cry on —
But now hear more about Ixion.

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The Goddess, proud, (as folks report her)
Disdain'd that mortal wight shou'd court her,
And yet she chose the fool to flatter,
To make him fancy some great matter,
And hope in time he might get at her;
Grac'd him with now and then a smile,
But inly scorn'd him all the while ;
Resolv'd at last a trick to shew him,
Seeming to yield and so undo him.

Now which way, do you think, she took ?
(For do't she wou'd by hook or crook)
Why, thus I find it in my book.

She call'd a pretty painted cloud,
The brightest of the wand'ring crowd,
For The

know is


o'th' air,
And all the clouds and
Governs at will, by nod or summons,
As Walpole does the house of commons.
This cloud which came to her stark naked,
She dress'd as fine as hands could make it.
From lier own wardrobe out she brought
Whate'er was dainty, wove or wrought.
A smock which Pallas spun and gave

Once on a time to gain her favour;
A gown that ha’n’t on earth its fellow,
Of finest blue and lined with yellow,
Fit for a Goddess to appear in,
And not a pin the worse for wearing.

vaçours there

A quilted

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