SIR CHARLES SEDLEY

AH, Chloris! that I now could sit As unconcern’d as when Your infant beauty could beget No pleasure, nor no pain! When I the dawn used to admire, And praised the coming day, I little thought the growing fire Must take my rest away. Your charms in harmless childhood lay Like metals in the mine; Age from no face took more away Than youth conceal’d in thine. But as your charms insensibly To their perfection prest, Fond love as unperceived did fly, And in my bosom rest. My passion with your beauty grew, And Cupid at my heart, Still as his mother favour’d you, Threw a new flaming dart: Each gloried in their wanton part; To make a lover, he Employ’d the utmost of his art— To make a beauty, she.

NOT, Celia, that I juster am Or better than the rest! For I would change each hour, like them, Were not my heart at rest. But I am tied to very thee By every thought I have; Thy face I only care to see, Thy heart I only crave. All that in woman is adored In thy dear self I find— For the whole sex can but afford The handsome and the kind. Why then should I seek further store, And still make love anew? When change itself can give no more, ’Tis easy to be true!