Sylvæ, or, The second part of Poetical miscellanies

The Sixth ELEGY Of the First Book of TIBULLUS.

OFt I by Wine have try'd to lull my cares, But vexing grief turn'd all my wine to Tears; Each sprightly bottle did but still supply Another Fountain for my weeping Eye: I chang'd my Love, but midst the kind embrace I think on her, and my attempt decays: The Maid deluded from my feeble Arms Straight starts, and shriek's and much complains of Charms:

I know, says she, strong charms thy force restrain, You us'd to prove your self a greater Man; Go dull unactive Load, thy strength restore, Then come prepar'd, and mock my hopes no more. Ah me! no Charms but her bewitching face, Damps all my thoughts, and deadens my embrace: Yet now a wealthy Fool and Bawd conspire, A griping Bawd, to blast my just desire; And what can the poor Man securely hold Against the force of Treachery and gold! I faint, I die, ye•• e're I mount above, I'le call down vengeance for my injur'd love; Let hatred blast her, and the publick scorn, Who drew the fair One first to be forsworn. Unpity'd, hated, let her range the Streets, Worry'd by Dogs, and curst by all she meets: At night let groaning Spectres round her wait, And break her rest complaining of their Fate▪

All this will come, I shall be pleas'd to see The speedy punishment of Treachery: No slow delay shall coming fate prolong; For Venus soon resents a Lovers wrong: But take heed Fair one, be no longer aw'd, But fly the cunning precepts of the Bawd; The Rich mans bribes, her greedy hope devours, She pleads for her own profit, not for yours: For tho the wealthy may present you more, He cannot pay the service of the poor. The poor is ready, he will ne're disdain The meanest servile Office of thy Train; He'l bear thy Chair, of the preferment proud, Or force a passage for you thro' the Crowd. What ever friendships strictest ty's can crave, Or utmost duty challenge from a Slave: In vain, I sing, nor will my words command, This Gate ne're opens to an empty hand:

But, happy Sir, who dost thy conquest boast And triumph in the spoils that I have lost, Take heed, I warm Thee, my approaches fear; What you must suffer learn by what I bear: