Sent in this foul clime to languish, Hence with all my train attending We recal our shameful doom, O'er thefe waves for ever mourning If to Britain's fhores returning Be fhee fairer than the day, Or the flowry meads in May; If the think not well of me, What care I how faire fhe be? Shall my heart be griev'd or pin'd, If thee be not fo to me, What care I how kind fhee bef Shall a woman's virtues move If the be not fuch to me, 'Caufe her fortune feems too high, Where they want of riches finde, Thinke what with them they would doe, And, unleffe that minde I fee, Great Great or good, or kind or faire, For, if fhee be not for me, What care I for whom shee be? THE STEDFAST SHEPHERD. BY THE SAME. ENCE away, you Syrens, leave me, And unclafpe your wanton armes ; Sugred words fhall ne'er deceive me, (Though 'you' prove a thousand charmës). No common fnare Could ever my affection chaine : Your painted baits And poore deceits, Are all bestowed on me in vain. I'm no flave to fuch as you be; Neither shall a fnowy breft, Wanton eye, or lip of ruby Ever rob me of my reft; Το To some ore-soone enamour'd swaine: Those common wiles Of fighs and smiles I have elsewhere vowed a dutie; Turn away your' tempting eyes : Those impostures I despise : My fpirit lothes Where gawdy clothes I love her so Whose looke swears No; I can goe Can he prize the tainted pofies, Which on every brest are worne; rest Then hold your tongues ; Your mermaid songs a Hee's a foole, that basely dallies, Where each peasant mates with him ; I No, I doe fcorne to vow a dutie, Where each luftfull lad may woe Give me her, whofe fun-like beautie Affords that bliffe For which I would refuse no paine: Fond fooles, adieu; You feeke to captive me in vaine. Leave me then, you Syrens, leave me ; Seeke no more to worke my harmes : Craftie wiles eannot deceive me, Who am proofe against your charmes : To lead aftray The heart, that constant shall remaine : Will fit and fmile To fee you spend your time in vaine. AUTUMN. |