 | A Collection Of Poems |  |
64
To a Friend;
On Riding some Miles out of the Way to see MISS. ---
Tell me not, Damon, that I err,
Tho' thus misled I seem to thee,
The Venus Star directs my Course,
And prosp'rous must the Voyage be.
Tho' thus misled I seem to thee,
The Venus Star directs my Course,
And prosp'rous must the Voyage be.
Or e'en suppose deceiv'd I roam,
My Soul no other Way can find;
The Error sure may be excus'd,
The Paphian Boy, my Guide, is blind.
My Soul no other Way can find;
The Error sure may be excus'd,
The Paphian Boy, my Guide, is blind.
His Godship's Self in Days of yore,
As Poets tell us, went astray;
And happy had his Error been,
If thus he could have lost his Way.
As Poets tell us, went astray;
And happy had his Error been,
If thus he could have lost his Way.
65
Poor Venus might have Sobb'd and Cry'd,
And rang'd the Skies from Morn to Even;
Th'enchanted Boy had ne'er return'd,
Nor miss'd his Mother nor his Heav'n.
And rang'd the Skies from Morn to Even;
Th'enchanted Boy had ne'er return'd,
Nor miss'd his Mother nor his Heav'n.
| A Collection Of Poems | |