Love's an headstrong wild Desire
To possess what we admire:
Hurrying on without reflecting,
All, that's just, or wise, neglecting.
...
Mean time, the Trojan Troops with weeping Eyes,
To dead Misenus pay his Obsequies.
First, from the Ground a lofty Pile they rear,
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The Maids of Britain, in the Times of old,
Were fam'd for Beauty; so have Poets told:
But ne'er could Britain boast so bright a Race
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Fitter for the Bridal--Bed,
Than the cold and silent Grave,
Let Death take thousands in her stead,
But, O You Gods! Florinda save.
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Stay! Fleeting Air!
Thou dear resemblance of my lovely Fair!
Why from me dost thou fly, beloved Shade?
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Why strive You, Flora! thus, to hide
The Kindness You have for me,
And force your self to frown, and chide,
And tell me, You abhor me?
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A POEM. Intended to restrain the Pride of Man.
Thy Works, Eternal Power by whom she sings!
The Muse attempts, and tunes the sounding Strings:
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As Buxom Susan milk'd the brindl'd Cow,
Young Ralph return'd from holding of the Plow:
Behind he catch'd her, and cry'd out, O Sue!
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Damon.
Love's an idle childish Passion,
Only fit for Girls and Boys;
Marriage is a cursed Fashion,
...