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To Chloris

SINGING A SONG OF HIS OWN COMPOSITION

HLORIS, yourself you so excel,

When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought,

That like a spirit, with this spell,

own teaching, I am

Of my own

caught.

That eagle's fate and mine are one,

Which on the shaft that made him

die,

Espy'd a feather of his own,

Wherewith he wont to soar so high.

Had Echo with so sweet a grace,
Narcissus' loud complaints returned,

Not for reflection of his face,

But of his voice, the boy had burned.

-Edmund Waller.

TAY, Phoebus! stay!

The world to which you fly so

fast,

Conveying day.

From us to them, can pay your haste

With no such object nor salute your

rise,

With no such wonder as De Morney's

eyes.

Well does this prove

The error of those antique books

Which made you move.

About the world: Her charming looks

Would fix your beams, and make it ever day, Did not the rolling earth snatch her away.

- Edmund Waller.

To flabia

[graphic]

IS 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.

'Tis not the pretty things you say, Nor those you write,

Which can make Thyrsis' heart your prey:

The

For that delight,

graces of a well-taught mind,

In some of our own sex we find.

To Flavia

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!

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[graphic]

HOE'ER she be,

That not impossible She

That shall command my heart and

Where'er she lie,

Lock'd up from mortal eye

In shady leaves of destiny:

Till that ripe birth

Of studied Fate stand forth,

And teach her fair steps tread our earth;

Till that divine

Idea take a shrine

Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:

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