Page:Poems upon Several Occasions.djvu/73

Rh Here a proud Nymph with painful Steps I chase, The Winds out-flying in our nimble Race; Stay Daphnè, stayIn vain, in vain I try To stop her Speed, redoubling at my Cry; O'er craggy Rocks and rugged Hills she climbs; And tears on pointed Flints her tender Limbs; But caught at length, just as my Arms I fold, Turn'd to a Tree, she yet escapes my Hold. In my next Love a different Fate I find: Ah! which is worse? the False, or the Unkind? Forgetting Daphnè, I Corónis chose, A kinder Nymphtoo kind for my Repose. The Joys I give but more enflame her Breast, She keeps a private Drudge to quench the rest; How, and with whom, the very Birds proclaim Her black Pollution, and reveal my Shame. Hard Lot of Beauty! fatally bestow'd, Or given to the False, or to the Proud; By sev'ral Ways they bring us equal Pain, The False betray us, and the Proud disdain. Scorn'd, and abus'd; from mortal Loves I fly, To seek more Truth in my own Native Sky; Venus, the fairest of immortal Loves, Bright as my Beams, and gentle as her Doves, With glowing Eyes, confessing hot Desires, She summons Heav'n and Earth to quench her Fires,

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