 | Letters and poems |  |
71
To his Book.
Go, little Book, and to the World impartThe faithful Image of an am'rous Heart:
Those who Love's dear, deluding Pains have known,
May in my fatal Stories read their own.
Those who have liv'd from all its Torments free,
May find the thing they never felt, by me.
Perhaps advis'd, avoid the gilded Bait,
And, warn'd by my Example, shun my Fate.
While with calm Joy, safe landed on the Coast,
I view the Waves on which I once was tost.
72
Suspicions, Quarrels, Reconcilements, Wars;
Then Peace again. Oh! wou'd it not be best,
To chase the fatal Poison from our Breast?
But since so few can live from Passion free,
Happy the Man, and only happy he,
Who with such lucky Stars begins his love,
That his cool Judgment does his Choice approve.
Ill-grounded Passions quickly wear away;
What's built upon Esteem, can ne'er decay.
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