Part 2 — SONG
Reading edition
The merchant, to secure his treasure, Conveys it in a borrowed name: Euphelia serves to grace my measure; But Chloe is my real flame.
My softest verse, my darling lyre, Upon Euphelia's toilet lay; When Chloe noted her desire That I should sing, that I should play.
My lyre I tune, my voice I raise; But with my numbers mix my sighs: And while I sing Euphelia's praise, I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.
Fair Chloe blushed: Euphelia frowned: I sung, and gazed: I played, and trembled: And Venus to the Loves around Remarked, how ill we all dissembled.
Matthew Prior [1664-1721]