Possibly, the angry Aminta, when she writ these Verses, was more offended, that he believed himself belov'd, than that he flatter'd; tho' she wou'd seem to make that a great part of the Quarrel, and Cause of her Resentment: For we are often in an humour to seem more modest in that point, than naturally we are; being too apt to have a favourable Opinion of our selves: And 'tis rather the Effects of a Fear that we are flatter'd, than our own ill Opinion of the Beauty flatter'd; and that the Praiser thinks not so well of it, as we do our selves, or at least we wish he should. Not but there are Grains of Allowance for the Temper of him that speaks: One Man's Humour is to talk much; and he may be permitted to enlarge upon the Praise he gives the Person he pretends to, without being accus'd of much Guilt. Another hates to be wordy; from such an one, I have known one soft Expression, one tender Thing, go as far as whole Days everlasting Protestations urged with Vows, and mighty Eloquence. And both the one and the other, indeed, must be allow'd in good manners, to stretch the Compliment beyond the bounds of nice Truth: and we must not wonder to hear a Man call a Woman a Beauty, when she is not ugly; or another a great Wit, if she have but common Sense above the Vulgar; well bred, when well drest; and good-natur'd, when civil. And as I should be very ridiculous, if I took all you said for absolute Truth; so I should be very unjust, not to allow you very sincere in almost all you said besides; and those things, the most material to Love, Honour and Friendship. And for the rest (Damon) be it true or false, this believe, you speak with such a Grace, that I cannot chuse but credit you; and find an infinite Pleasure in that Faith, because I love you: And if I cannot find the Cheat, I am contented you should deceive me on, because you do it so agreeably.
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.