Forbear to ask Me, why I weep; <br />Vext Cloe to her Shepherd said: <br />'Tis for my Two poor stragling Sheep <br />Perhaps, or for my Squirrel dead. <br />For mind I what You late have writ? <br />Your subtle Questions, and Replies; <br />Emblems, to teach a Female Wit <br />The Ways, where changing Cupid flies. <br />Your Riddle, purpos'd to rehearse <br />The general Pow'r that Beauty has: <br />But why did no peculiar Verse <br />Describe one Charm of Cloe's Face? <br />The Glass, which was at Venus' Shrine, <br />With such Mysterious Sorrow laid: <br />The Garland (and You call it Mine) <br />Which show'd how Youth and Beauty fade. <br />Ten thousand Trifles light as These <br />Nor can my Rage, nor Anger move: <br />She shou'd be humble, who wou'd please: <br />And She must suffer, who can love. <br />When in My Glass I chanc'd to look; <br />Of Venus what did I implore? <br />That ev'ry Grace which thence I took, <br />Shou'd know to charm my Damon more. <br /> <br />Reading Thy Verse; who heeds, said I, <br />If here or there his Glances flew? <br />O free for ever be His Eye, <br />Whose Heart to Me is always true. <br />My Bloom indeed, my little Flow'r <br />Of Beauty quickly lost it's Pride: <br />For sever'd from it's Native Bow'r, <br />It on Thy glowing Bosom dy'd. <br />Yet car'd I not, what might presage <br />Or withering Wreath, or fleeting Youth: <br />Love I esteem'd more strong than Age, <br />And Time less permanent than Truth. <br />Why then I weep, forbear to know: <br />Fall uncontroll'd my Tears, and free: <br />O Damon, 'tis the only Woe, <br />I ever yet conceal'd from Thee. <br />The secret Wound with which I bleed <br />Shall lie wrapt up, ev'n in my Herse: <br />But on my Tomb-stone Thou shalt read <br />My Answer to Thy dubious Verse.<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cloe-jealous/
