S. Strive not, faireft, 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 fend my heart a roving?
First to love I muft forbear.
Wou'd you have me cease from loving?
You must cease from being fair.
C. Since, my Strephon, you so kind are,
All pretenfions to refign;
-You may find her
Lefs fevere than you divine.
Strephon ftruck with joy beholds her,
Wou'd have spoke but knew not how;
But he look'd fuch things as told her
More than all his speech cou'd do.
To CHLORINDA. By the Same.
EE, Strephon, what unhappy fate
Does on thy fruitless paffion wait,
Adding to flame fresh fuel:
Rather than thou should'ft favour find,
The kindest foul on earth's unkind,
And the best nature cruel.
The goodness, which Chlorinda fhews,
From mildness and good breeding flows,
But must not love be ftil'd:
Or elfe 'tis fuch as mothers try,
When wearied with inceffant cry,
They ftill a froward child.
She with a graceful mien and air,
Genteely civil, yet severe,
Bids thee all hopes give o'er.
Friendship she offers, pure and free ;
And who, with fuch a friend as she,
Cou'd want, or wish for more?
Q
The cur that fwam along the flood,
His mouth well fill'd with morfel good,
(Too good for common cur!)
By vifionary 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 CHLORINDA.
Was one of those pragmatic fellows,
Who claim a right to kiss the hand
Of the best lady in the land;
Demonftrating by dint of reason,
That impudence in love's no treason.
He let his fancy foar much higher;
And ventur'd boldly to aspire
To Juno's high and mighty grace,
And woo'd the goddess face to face.
What mortal e'er had whims so odd,
To think of cuckolding a God?
For fhe was both Jove's wife and fifter,
And yet the rafcal wou'd have kifs'd her.
How he got up to heav'n's high palace,
Not one of all the poets tell us ;
It must be therefore understood,
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 fuccefs.
But first I ftop awhile to fhew
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,
With every charm of face and mind ;
Glanc'd light'ning from her eyes so blue,
And shot poor Strephon through and through,
He, over head and ears her lover,
'Try'd all the ways he cou'd to move her;
He figh'd, and vow'd, and pray'd, and cry'd,
And did a thousand things befide:
But now hear more about Ixion.
The Goddefs, proud, (as folks report her)
Difdain'd that mortal wight fhou'd court her,
And yet fhe chofe the fool to flatter,
To make him fancy fome 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;
Refolv'd at last a trick to fhew him,
Seeming to yield and fo undo him.
Now which way, do you think, fhe took?
(For do't the 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 fhe you know is queen o th” air,
And all the clouds and vapours there
Governs at will, by nod or fummons,
As Walpole does the house of commons.
This cloud which came to her stark naked,
She drefs'd as fine as hands could make it.
From her own wardrobe out she brought
Whate'er was dainty, wove or wrought.
A fmock which Pallas fpun and gave her
Once on a time to gain her favour;
A gown that ha'n't on earth its fellow,
Of fineft blue and lined with yellow,
Fit for a Goddess to appear in,
And not a pin the worfe for wearing.
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