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ODE V.

[Your Heifer, Friend, is yet unbroke]

Your Heifer, Friend, is yet unbroke,
Nor can her Neck sustain the Yoke.
She now delights in Meads to stray,
And with the frisking Steerlings play;
To shun, in Shades, the piercing Beams,
And lave her in the cooling Streams.
Her yet unripen'd Beauties spare;
A while the tasteless Grape forbear;
And She, in Autumn's purple Grace
Matur'd, shall give her Lover Chace.

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For Age whirls round, and every Year
It takes from You, will add to Her:
Your Lalagé shall then proclaim,
Without a Blush, her rival Flame;
And kindle one more fierce, than You
For Pholoë or Chloris knew:
Behold her Shoulder's radiant White;
Not Cynthia, in a cloudless Night,
Adorns the Sea with purer Rays;
And Gyges but divides our Praise,
Who, in the Virgin Choir, defies
The curious Stranger's prying Eyes,
So smooth his doubtful Cheeks appear,
So loose, so girlish, flows his Hair!