Thro' weeping crowds that on their course attend;Well may they weep for their unhappy end.Forbid it, heaven, that what I say may provePresaging to the fair I blame and love;Thus let me ne'er, ye pow'rs, her death deplore,'Twas her first fault, and she'll offend no more;No pardon she'll deserve a second time,But, without mercy, punish then her crime.
Elegy XV: The Poet addresses the ring which he has sent a present to his
mistress. By an unknown hand.Go, happy ring, who art about to bindThe fair one's finger; may the fair be kind.Small is the present, tho' the love be great;May she swift slip thee on thy taper seat.As she and I, may thou with her agree,And not too large, nor yet too little be.To touch her hand thou wilt the pleasure have;I now must envy what myself I gave.O! would a Proteus or a Circe changeMe to thy form, that I like thee might range !Then would I wish thee with her breasts to play,