CHLOE to STREPHON. A SONG

Too plain, dear youth, these tell-tale eyes My heart your own declare, But for heav'n's sake let it suffice You reign triumphant there:

Forbear your utmost pow'r to try, Nor farther urge your sway; Press not for what I must deny, For fear I should obey.

Could all your art successful prove, Would you a maid undo, Whose greatest failing is her love, And that her love for you?

Say, would you use that very pow'r You from her fondness claim, To ruin in one fatal hour A life of spotless fame?

Ah! cease, my dear, to do an ill, Because perhaps you may! But rather try your utmost skill To save me than betray:

Be you yourself my virtue's guard, Defend, and not pursue; Since 'tis a task for me too hard, To fight with love and you.