Thy face is to my humour made, Perhaps, by some fond whim betray'd, In oddness I delight. Vain youth, to your confusion, know You all your fancied beauties owe, For your own sake, if not for mine, Since you, my swain, no more will shine By me indeed you are allow'd A. PHILLIPS. My love was fickle once and changing, 'T was 'Twas first a charming shape enslaved me I An eye then gave the fatal stroke; el Till by her wit CORINNA saved me, *-* 60? And all my former fetters broke. 30 ( But now a long and lasting anguish Hourly I sigh, and hourly languish, For here the false inconstant lover, I WHILE silently I loved, nor dared To tell my crime aloud, The influence of your smiles I shared In common with the crowd. * This song is given in one of Addison's Spectators (No. 470), as the subject of a humorous commentary in ridicule of the verbal critics. Its author is not mentioned. But Bat when I once my flame exprest, If thus, CORINNA, you shall frown Then all mankind must be undone, SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care, 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be! Should my heart be grieved or pined 'Cause 1 see a woman kind? Or a well disposed nature Joined with a lovely feature? Be Be she meeker, kinder, than If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be! Shall a woman's virtues move What care I how good she be ! 'Cause her fortune seems too high, Shall I play the fool and die? Those that bear a noble mind, Where they want of riches find, Think what with them they would do And, unless that mind I see, Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will die ere she shall grieve': ...ཏྟཱ་ If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go: For, if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ?* G. WITHER. I DO confess thou 'rt smooth and fair, And I might have been brought to love thee; That breath could make, had power to move thee; I do confess thou 'rt sweet, but find Then, since thou canst with more than one, *A dull and tedious writer on grave subjects will sometimes sport happily with a lighter topic. This was the case with Wither, a poet of the earlier part of the 17th century, who, after writing some pleasing juvenile pieces, became almost proverbial for dull prolixity. The |