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.

BEHOLD THE BRAND OF BEAUTY TOSS’D!

1 Behold the brand of beauty toss’d! 
    See how the motion does dilate the flame! 
  Delighted Love his spoils does boast,
    And triumph in this game. 
  Fire, to no place confined,
    Is both our wonder and our fear;
  Moving the mind,
    As lightning hurled through the air.

2 High heaven the glory does increase
    Of all her shining lamps, this artful way;
  The sun in figures, such as these,
    Joys with the moon to play;
  To the sweet strains they advance,
    Which do result from their own spheres,
  As this nymph’s dance
    Moves with the numbers which she hears.

WHILE I LISTEN TO THY VOICE.

1 While I listen to thy voice,
    Chloris!  I feel my life decay;
  That powerful noise
    Calls my fleeting soul away. 
  Oh! suppress that magic sound,
    Which destroys without a wound.