صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

Nor's Love ungrateful to the willing Maid; Debts that have least of force, are furest paid: But when oblig'd to kiss, Men foon grow tir'd, And hate thofe Pleasures they before admir'd.

ოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოოო

THE

A NSW E R.
WE

T

By another Hand.

HE Gods (as Poets fay) from Men conceal

[fhall feel. Those boundless Pleasures they when dead

Elfe tir'd with living, they'd uneafie grow,
And leave unpeopled all the Realms below.
So married Men the Bliss of Nuptial Bed
Conceal from Batchelors, least all fhould wed.

Like envious Mifers, whilft themselves have store,

They much rejoice at seeing others poor.
But I, from fuch ignoble Paffions free,

Grow happier by my Friend's Felicity:

And therefore labour to convince Mankind

What Heav'nly Raptures we in Marriage find. Take my Advice, forfake thy fingle Life,

[ocr errors]

And taste all Pleasures in a loving Wife.
Believe me, I intend no base Deceit,

My only Aim's to make your Joys compleat:
But if you're yet on your own Counfels bent,
Live on, be still a Fool, and late repent.

2. H

ΤΟ

TO A

YOUNG LADY

Reading the

ART of LOVE.

Hilft Ovid here reveals the various Arts,

WH

[ocr errors]

[Darts.

Both how to Polish, and direct their

Let meaner Beauties by his Rules improve, And read these Lines to gain Success in Love: But Heav'n alone, that multiplies our Race, Has Pow'r t'increase the Conquests of your Face. The Spring, before he Paints the rising Flow'rs, Receives mild Beams,and foft defcending Show'rs; But Love blooms ever fresh beneath your Charms, Tho' neither Pity weeps, nor Kindness warms.

C

The

The Chiefs who doubt Succefs,affert their Claim

By Stratagems, and poorly steal a Name :
The generous * Son of Jove in open Fight
Made bleeding Victory proclaim his Might:
Like him resistless, when you take the Field
Love founds the Signal, and the World muft yield.

*Alexander.

A

P

THE

[ocr errors]

THE

FAIR

NUN

A T A

A LE.

Ire per Ignes,

Et gladios aufim. Neque ad hoctamen ignibus ullis,

Aut gladiis opus eft; opus eft mihi Crine:

Ovid. Met. Lib.

E fage Cartefians, who profefs

WE

Our selves fworn Foes to Emptiness,

Affert that Souls a Tip-toe ftand

On what we call the Pineal Gland;
As Weather-cocks on Spires are plac'd,
To turn the quicker with each Blast.

« السابقةمتابعة »