 | Miscellanies in Verse and Prose |  |
58
In Imitation of Catullus, ad seipsum.
Miser Catulle desinas ineptire,
Et, quod vides perîsse, perditum ducas.
Et, quod vides perîsse, perditum ducas.
Prithee, Pack, the Strife give over,
Yield a Game you can't recover.
Once, 'tis true, thy Days were fair,
Free from Clouds of jealous Care,
When the lovely loving Maid
All thy Vows with Warmth repaid;
With a Thousand Ways of Toying,
Still Inviting, never Cloying.
Once, indeed, thy Days were fair,
Free from Clouds of jealous Care.
But since grown Coquet and Vain,
She rejects thee with disdain.
Quit the Fickle, False, Ingrate,
And revenge her Scorn with Hate.
Yield a Game you can't recover.
Once, 'tis true, thy Days were fair,
Free from Clouds of jealous Care,
When the lovely loving Maid
All thy Vows with Warmth repaid;
With a Thousand Ways of Toying,
Still Inviting, never Cloying.
Once, indeed, thy Days were fair,
Free from Clouds of jealous Care.
But since grown Coquet and Vain,
She rejects thee with disdain.
59
And revenge her Scorn with Hate.
Well! from hence I'll break my Chains.
Love adieu, and all thy Pains.
Lesbia too, perhaps, may Mourn,
When neglected, in her Turn;
When she sits whole Nights alone,
Sought by Few, believ'd by None.
Who will now that Bosom Press,
Mad with Joy, and sweet Excess?
Who will Mark those Lips with Kisses?
Who Dissolve in riper Blisses?
Well! at length I've broke my Chains.
Love adieu, and all thy Pains.
Love adieu, and all thy Pains.
Lesbia too, perhaps, may Mourn,
When neglected, in her Turn;
When she sits whole Nights alone,
Sought by Few, believ'd by None.
Who will now that Bosom Press,
Mad with Joy, and sweet Excess?
Who will Mark those Lips with Kisses?
Who Dissolve in riper Blisses?
Well! at length I've broke my Chains.
Love adieu, and all thy Pains.
| Miscellanies in Verse and Prose | |