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(8)
Ah! fickle Chloe, be advis’d;
do not thyfelf beguile,
A faithful lover flionld be priz’d,
thou cure him with a fniile.
S Y L V I i ’.s M A R R I A G H
SYlvia was tender, foft and young
the wonder of the plain;
1 he th^me of every fiiephejfd’s fong,
%r: ^ hor of his pain.
To gaze oi - each amrous boy,
would w, ne live long day,
Let wolves h: heiplefs lambs deftroj
and flocks heeded flray.
But Sylvia, rai ithinking maid,
too fondly turn l a wife;
Let all her-bloomtng beauties fade;
and loft the 1 weed’s of life.
So on the tree the blnfliing rofe,
charms all beholding eyes; _
But pluck’d & torn from whence it gro*
it vvithers, fades, and dies.

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