Peace, Babbling Muse!

1 Peace, babbling Muse! I dare not sing what you indite; Her eyes refuse To read the passion which they write. She strikes my lute, but, if it sound, Threatens to hurl it on the ground; And I no less her anger dread, Than the poor wretch that feigns him dead, While some fierce lion does embrace His breathless corpse, and lick his face; Wrapp'd up in silent fear he lies, Torn all in pieces if he cries.

CHLORIS! FAREWELL.

1 Chloris! farewell. I now must go; For if with thee I longer stay, Thy eyes prevail upon me so, I shall prove blind, and lose my way.

2 Fame of thy beauty, and thy youth, Among the rest, me hither brought; Finding this fame fall short of truth, Made me stay longer than I thought.

3 For I'm engaged by word and oath, A servant to another's will; Yet, for thy love, I'd forfeit both, Could I be sure to keep it still.

4 But what assurance can I take, When thou, foreknowing this abuse, For some more worthy lover's sake, Mayst leave me with so just excuse?

5 For thou mayst say, 'twas not thy fault That thou didst thus inconstant prove; Being by my example taught To break thy oath, to mend thy love.

6 No, Chloris! no: I will return, And raise thy story to that height, That strangers shall at distance burn, And she distrust me reprobate.

7 Then shall my love this doubt displace, And gain such trust, that I may come And banquet sometimes on thy face, But make my constant meals at home.

TO FLAVIA.

1 'Tis not your beauty can engage My wary heart; The sun, in all his pride and rage, Has not that art; And yet he shines as bright as you, If brightness could our souls subdue.

2 'Tis not the pretty things you say, Nor those you write, Which can make Thyrsis' heart your prey: For that delight, The graces of a well-taught mind, In some of our own sex we find.

3 No, Flavia! 'tis your love I fear; Love's surest darts, Those which so seldom fail him, are Headed with hearts; Their very shadows make us yield; Dissemble well, and win the field.