 | The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley
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XXVIII
THE FEIGNED LOVE
Cloris, tho' meaner Beauties might
Perhaps have need of some such Slight,
You may those petty Arts despise,
Secure of what is once your Prize;
Ill us'd and scorn'd, we must adore,
And question not resistless Power:
In Rome, no Man was known to fly,
Whom the Emperor condemn'd to dye,
The fatal Stroke themselves wou'd give,
Rather than banisht from her live.
So to your Empire harsh or kind,
I stand by my own choice confind.
I daily saw how others far'd,
Whom the false Hope you gave ensnar'd;
Like foolish Boys at Birds, that catch,
Sometimes we thought you in our reach;
And then again, you'd mount and fly
Beyond the compass of our Eye;
Till weary'd with the vain Pursuit,
Like Birds that peck at painted Fruit,
The wiser sort their Hopes disclaim,
And beat the Wood for easier Game.
| The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley
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