TO FLAVIA.
Reading edition
1 'Tis not your beauty can engage My wary heart; The sun, in all his pride and rage, Has not that art; And yet he shines as bright as you, If brightness could our souls subdue.
2 'Tis not the pretty things you say, Nor those you write, Which can make Thyrsis' heart your prey: For that delight, The graces of a well-taught mind, In some of our own sex we find.
3 No, Flavia! 'tis your love I fear; Love's surest darts, Those which so seldom fail him, are Headed with hearts; Their very shadows make us yield; Dissemble well, and win the field.