SIX o'CLOCK.
Walk without Design.
You yet have time to walk; and my Watch foresaw you cou'd not refuse your Friends. You must to the Park, or to the Mall; for the Season is fair and inviting, and all the young Beauties love those Places too well, not to be there. 'Tis there that a thousand Intrigues are carry'd on, and as many more design'd: 'Tis there that every one is set out for Conquest; and who aim at nothing less than Hearts. Guard yours well, my Damon; and be not always admiring what you see. Do not, in passing by, sigh them silent Praises. Suffer not so much as a guilty Wish to approach your Thoughts, nor a heedful Glance to steal from your fine Eyes: Those are Regards you ought only to have for her you love. But oh! above all, have a care of what you say: You are not reproachable, if you should remain silent all the time of your Walk; nor would those that know you believe it the Effects of Dulness, but Melancholy. And if any of your Friends ask you, Why you are so? I will give you leave to sigh, and say—
The Mal-Content.
Ah! wonder not if I appear
Regardless of the Pleasures here;
Or that my Thoughts are thus confin'd
To the just Limits of my Mind.
My Eyes take no delight to rove
O'er all the smiling Charmers of the Grove,
Since she is absent whom they love.
Ask me not, Why the Flow'ry Spring,
Or the gay little Birds that sing,
Or the young Streams no more delight,
Or Shades and Arbours can't invite?
Why the soft Murmurs of the Wind,
Within the thick-grown Groves confin'd,
No more my Soul transport, or cheer;
Since all that's charming—Iris, is not here;
Nothing seems glorious, nothing fair.
Then suffer me to wander thus,
With down-cast Eyes, and Arms across:
Let Beauty unregarded go;
The Trees and Flowers unheeded grow.
Let purling Streams neglected glide;
With all the Spring's adorning Pride.
'Tis Iris only Soul can give
To the dull Shades, and Plains, and make 'em thrive;
Nature and my last Joys retrieve.
I do not, for all this, wholly confine your Eyes: you may look indifferently on all, but with a particular regard on none. You may praise all the Beauties in general, but no single one too much. I will not exact from you neither an intire Silence: There are a thousand Civilities you ought to pay to all your Friends and Acquaintance; and while I caution you of Actions, that may get you the Reputation of a Lover of some of the Fair that haunt those Places, I would not have you, by an unnecessary and uncomplaisant Sullenness, gain that of a Person too negligent or morose. I would have you remiss in no one Punctilio of good Manners. I would have you very just, and pay all you owe; but in these Affairs be not over generous, and give away too much. In fine, you may look, speak and walk; but (Damon) do it all without design: And while you do so, remember that Iris sent you this Advice.
The Warning.
Take heed, my Damon, in the Grove,
Where Beauties with design do walk;
Take heed, my Damon, how you look and talk,
For there are Ambuscades of Love.
The very Winds that softly blow,
Will help betray your easy Heart;
And all the Flowers that blushing grow,
The Shades about, and Rivulets below,
Will take the Victor's part.
Remember, Damon, all my Safety lies
In the just Conduct of your Eyes.
The Heart, by Nature good and brave,
Is to those treacherous Guards a Slave.
If they let in the fair destructive Foe,
Scarce Honour can defend her noble Seat:
Ev'n she will be corrupted too,
Or driv'n to a Retreat.
The Soul is but the Cully to the Sight,
And must be pleas'd in what that takes delight.
Therefore examine your self well; and conduct your Eyes, during this Walk, like a Lover that seeks nothing: And do not stay too long in these Places.