Malheurs de l'Amour.
HASTE to Clarinda, and reveal
Whatever Pains poor Lovers feel;
When that is done, then tell the Fair
That I endure much more for her.
Who'd truly know Love's Pow'r or Smart,
Must view her Eyes, and read my Heart.
Prologue to the She-Gallants.
AS quiet Monarchs, that on peaceful Thrones
In Sports and Revels long had reign'd like Drones,
Rousing at length, reflect with Guilt and Shame
That not one Stroke had yet been given for Fame,
Wars they denounce, and to redeem the past,
To bold Attempts and rugged Labours haste.
Our Poet so with like Concern reviews
The youthful Follies of his Love-sick Muse.
To amorous Toils, and to the silent Grove,
To Beauty's Snares, and to deceitful Love,
He bids farewel: His Shield and Lance prepares,
And mounts the Stage, to bid Immortal Wars.
