As when a Monarch does in Triumph come,
And proudly leads the vanquish’d Captive home,
The joyful People swarm in ev’ry Street,
And with loud Shouts the glorious Victor meet.
But others whom Misfortune kept away
Desire to hear the Story of the Day,
How brave the Prince, how brave his Chariot was,
How beautiful he look’d, with what a Grace;
How rich his Habit, if he Plumes did wear,
Or if a Wreath of Bays adorn’d his Hair:
They think ’twas wondrous fine, and long much more,
To see the Conqu’ror than they did before.
So when at first by Fame I only knew
The Charms so much admir’d and prais’d in you;
How many Slaves your conqu’ring Eyes had won,
And how the wond’ring Crowd did gazing throng;
I wish’d to see, and half a Lover grew,
Of so much Beauty, tho my Rival too.
I came, I saw you, and I must confess,
I wish’d my Beauty greater, or yours less;
Alas! My whole Devotion you betray’d,
I only thought of you, and only pray’d,
That you might all your jealous Sex out-do
In Cruelty as well as Beauty too.
I call’d Amintas faithless Man before,
But now I find ’tis just he should adore.
Not to love you, if such a Sin could be,
Were greater than his Perjury to me;
Thus while I blame him, I excuse him too,
Who can be innocent that looks on you?
But, lovely Chloris, you too meanly prize
The Treasures of your Youth, and of your Eyes;
Ne’re hear his Vows that he to others swore,
Nor let him be your Slave, that was a Slave before;
He oft has Fetters worn, and can with Ease
Admit them, or dismiss them, as he please.
A Virgin Heart you merit, that ne’re found
It could receive, till from your Eyes, a Wound,
The Soul that nothing but their Force could fear,
As great, if that can be, as you are fair.