Dear Chloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face; <br />Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd: <br />Prythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff says) <br />Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world. <br /> <br />How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy <br />The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping? <br />Those looks were design'd to inspire love and joy: <br />More ord'nary eyes may serve people for weeping. <br /> <br />To be vext at a trifle or two that I writ, <br />Your judgment at once, and my passion you wrong: <br />You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit: <br />Odds life! must one swear to the truth of a song? <br /> <br />What I speak, my fair Chloe, and what I write, shows <br />The diff'rence there is betwixt nature and art: <br />I court others in verse; but I love thee in prose: <br />And they have my whimsies, but thou hast my heart. <br /> <br />The god of us verse-men (you know, child) the Sun, <br />How after his journeys he sets up his rest: <br />If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to run; <br />At night he declines on his Thetis's breast. <br /> <br />So when I am wearied with wand'ring all day, <br />To thee my delight in the evening I come: <br />No matter what beauties I saw in my way; <br />They were but my visits, but thou art my home. <br /> <br />Then finish, dear Chloe, this pastoral war; <br />And let us like Horace and Lydia agree: <br />For thou art a girl as much brighter than her, <br />As he was a poet sublimer than me.<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-chloe-jealous/
