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            [ I ]

            TO A

   Young Gentleman in Love.

            A

         TALE.

FROM publick Noiſe and factious Strife,
From all the buſie Ills of Life,
Take me, My Cloe, to thyBreaſt,
And lull my wearied Soul to reſt.
For ever in this humble Cell,         
Let Thee and I, my fair One, dwell;
None enter elſe, but LoVe~- and He
Shall barr the Door, and keep the Key.

To painted Roofs and ſhining Spires,
(Uneaſie Seats of high Deſires)
Let the unthinking Many croud,
That dare be Covetous and Proud ;
In
Golden Bondage let them wait,
And Barter Happineſs for State
But Oh ! My Cloe, when thy Swain
Deſires to ſee a Court again,
May Heav'n, around this deſtin'd Head,
The choiceſt of its Curſes ſhed:
To ſum up all the rage of Fate,
In the Two Things I dread and hate.
May' ſt thou be Falſe, and I be Great.

Thus, on his Cloe's panting Breaſt,
Fond Celadon his Soul expreſt;
While with Delight, the lovely Maid
Receiv'd the Vows, ſhe thus repaid.

Hope of my Age, Joy of my Youth,
Ble ſt Miracle of Love and Truth !
All that could e're be counted mine,
My Love and Life, long ſince are thine ;
A real Joy I never knew,
'Till I believ'd thy Paſſion true;
A real Grief I ne'er can find,
Till thou prov' ſt Perjur'd or unkind.

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