And clear the course—Now see your ground you better do maintain,This lady's favour, and your fame regain;The prize is his.-As yours successful prove,So let my wishes, which are all for love;I'm yet to conquer, and your heart's the prize;Something she promis'd with her sparkling eyes,And smil'd ;-" Enough," did I transported cry,"The rest I leave to opportunity."
Elegy III: Of His Perjured Mistress. By Henry Cromwell.Can there be gods ?-has she not falsely swore?Yet is the beauty that she was before!The curious tresses of her dangling hair,As long, and graceful still as e'er they were;That same inimitable white and red,Which o'er her face was so distinctly spread,The roses, and the lilies keep their place,And ev'ry feature still as justly grace;Her sparkling eyes their lustre still retain,That form, that perfect shape does still remain,As if she ne'er had sinn'd ; and heav'n, ('tis plain)