Selinda and Cloris, Made in an Entertainment at Court

As young Selinda led her Flock,
Beneath the Shelter of a shaded Rock,
The Melancholy Cloris by,
Thus to the Lovely Maid did sighing cry.

Cloris.

Selinda, you too lightly prize,
The powerful Glorys of your Eyes;
To suffer young Alexis to adore,
Alexis, whom Love made my slave before;
I first adorn’d him with my Chains,
He Sigh’d beneath the rigour of my Reign;
And can that Conquest now be worth your pain?
A Votary you deserve who ne’er knew how,
To any Altars but your own to bow.

Selinda.

Is it your Friendship or your Jealousie,
That brings this timely aid to me?
With Reason we that Empire quit,
Who so much Rigour shows,
And ‘twould declare more Love than Wit,
Not to recall his Vows.
If Beauty could Alexis move,
He might as well be mine;
He saw the Errors of his Love,
He saw how long in vain he strove,
And did your scorn decline;
And, Cloris, I the Gods may imitate,
And humble Penitents receive, tho late.

Cloris.

Mistaken Maid, can his Devotion prove
Agreeable or true,
Who only offers broken Vows of Love?
Vows which, Selinda, are my due.
How often prostrate at my feet h’as lain,
Imploring Pity for his Pain?
My heart a thousand ways he strove to win,
Before it let the Charming Conqueror in;
Ah then how soon the Amorous heat was laid!
How soon he broke the Vows he made!
Slighting the Trophies he had won.
And smiling saw me sigh for being undone.

Selinda.

Enough, enough, my dear abandon’d Maid,
Enough thy Eyes, thy Sighs, thy Tongue have said,
In all the Groves, on all the Plains,
‘Mongst all the Shepherds, all the Swains,
I never saw the Charms cou’d move
My yet unconquer’d heart, to Love;
And tho a God Alexis were,
He should not Rule the Empire here.

Cloris.

Then from his charming Language fly;
Or thou’rt undone as well as I;
The God of Love is sure his Friend,
Who taught him all his Arts,
And when a Conquest he design’d,
He furnish’d him with Darts;
His Quiver, and his gilded Bow,
To his assistance brings,
And having given the fatal Blow,
Lends him his fleeting wings.
Tho not a Cottage-Slave, can be,
Before the Conquest, so submiss as he,
To Fold your sheep, to gather Flowers,
To Pipe and sing, and sigh away your hours;
Early your Flocks to fragrant Meads,
Or cooling shades, and Springs he Leads;
Weaves Garlands, or go seek your Lambs,
That struggle from their bleating Dams,
Or any humble bus’ness do,
But once a Victor, he’s a Tyrant too.

Selinda.

Cloris, such little Services would prove
Too mean, to be repaid with Love;
A Look, a Nod, a Smile would quit that score,
And she deserves to be undone, that pays a Shepherd more.

Cloris.

His new-blown Passion if Selinda Scorn,
Alexis may again to me return.

Selinda.

Secure thy Fears, the Vows he makes to me
I send a Present, back to thee;

Cloris.

Then we will sing, in every Grove,
The greatness of your Mind,--

Selinda.

... And I your Love.

Both.

And all the Day,
With Pride and Joy,
We’ll let the Neighb’ring Shepherds see,
That none like us,
Did e’er express,
The heights of Love and Amity;
And all the day, &c.