Id. Lib. Ep. 15 — In Neaeram

'TWas Night, and Phaebe in a Heaven bright
Shone 'mongst the lesser sparks of Light,
When, thou (to wound the Gods) vowd'st to fulfill
The strictest tenures of my will,
With straighter Arms, than ever th' Ivy tall
Embrac'd the aged Oak withall;
Whilst Wolves devour, and whilst Orion stirs
The Winter Main to Mariners;
And that this Love should mutual last, whilst air
Wanton'd with Phaebus's uncut Hair.
Neaera false on my good Nature wan
Too much; were Flaccus ought of Man,
He'd not t' another yield thee Night by Night;
But seek another Love in spight:
Nor would his Anger so provok'd give place,
To th' Charms of thy offensive Face.
But, Thou, who ere more happy, and now grown
Proud usher'st my Affliction,
Thou mayst be rich in Cattle, and in Land,
Pactolus may flow to thy Hand;
Thou mayst be too a Pythagorean
O'recome with Beauty Nerean.
Yet thou, alas! wilt mourn her change to see,
When I by turn shall laugh at thee.