To the Sighing Strephon
Your pardon my friend,
If my rhymes did offend,
Your pardon a thousand times o’er,
From friendship I strove,
Your pangs to remove,
But I swear I will do so no more.
2
Since your beautiful maid
Your flame has repaid,
No more I your folly regret;
She’s now most divine,
And I bow at the shrine,
Of this quickly reformed coquette.
3
But still I must own,
I should never have known,
From your verses what else she deserv’d,
Your pain seem’d so great,
I pitied your fate,
As your fair was so dev’lish reserv’d.
4
But since the chaste kiss,
Of this magical Miss,
Such wonderful transports produce,
Since the “world you forget,”
“When your lips once have met,”
My Counsel will get but abuse.
5
You say “when I rove”
“I know nothing of love,”
’Tis true I am given to range,
If I rightly remember,
I’ve kiss’d a good number,
But there’s pleasure at least in a change.
6
I ne’er will advance,
By the rules of romance,
To humour a whimsical fair,
Though a smile may delight,
Yet a frown wont affright,
Or drive me to dreadful despair.
7
Whilst my blood is thus warm,
I ne’er shall reform,
To mix in the Platonist’s school;
Of this I am sure,
Was my passion so pure,
My mistress must think me a fool.
8
Though the kisses are sweet,
Which voluptuously meet,
Of kissing I ne’er was so fond,
As to make me forget,
Though our lips oft have met,
That still there was something beyond.
9
And if I should shun,
Every woman for one,
Whose image must fill my whole breast;
Whom I must prefer,
And sigh but for her,
What an insult ’twould be to the rest!
10
Now, Strephon, good bye,
I cannot deny,
Your passion appears most absurd,
Such love as you plead,
Is pure love indeed,
For it only consists in the word.