The harass'd whore, who liv'd a wretch to please,Has leave to be a bawd, and take her ease.For me then, who have truly spent my blood,Love, in thy service, and so boldly stoodIn Celia's trenches, were't not wisely done,E'en to retire, and live at peace at home ?No-might I gain a godhead to disclaimMy glorious title to my endless flame,Divinity with scorn I would forswear,Such sweet, dear, tempting devils women are.Whene'er those flames grow faint, I quickly findA fierce black storm pour down upon my mind;Headlong I'm hurl'd like horsemen who in vainTheir fury-flaming coursers would restrain.As ships, just when the harbour they attain,Are snatch'd by sudden blasts to sea again,So Love's fantastic storms reduce my heart,Half rescu'd, and the god resumes his dart.Strike here, this undefended bosom wound,And for so brave a conquest be renown'd.