Classic Poem

Thus I said to my heart in a pet t'other day,
‘I had rather be hang'd than go moping this way;
No throbbings, no wishes your moments employ,
But you sleep in my breast without motion or joy,

‘When Chloe perplex'd me 'twas sweeter by half,
And at Thais's wiles I could oftentimes laugh:
Your burnings and achings I strove not to cure,
Though one was a jilt, and the other a whore.

‘When I walk'd up the Mall, or stroll'd through the street,
Not a petticoat brush'd me but then you could beat;
Or if bang went the hoop against corner or post,
In the magical round you were sure to be lost.

‘But now, if a nymph goes as naked as Eve,
Like Adam unfallen, you never perceive;
Or the seat of delight if the tippet should hide,
You tempt not my fingers to draw it aside.

‘Is it caution, or dread, or the frost of old age,
That inclines you with beauty no more to engage?
Tell me quickly the cause, for it makes me quite mad
In the Summer's gay season to see you so sad.

‘Have a care, (quoth my Heart) how you tempt me to stray;
He that hunts down a woman must run a d—d way;
Like a hare she can wind, or hold out with the fox,
And secure in the chase her pursuers she mocks.

‘For Chloe I burnt with an innocent flame,
And beat to the music that breath'd out her name;
Three summers flew over the castles I built,
And beheld me a fool, and my goddess a jilt.

‘Next Thais the wanton my wishes employ'd,
And the kind one repair'd what the cruel destroy'd;
Like Shadrach I liv'd in a furnace of fire,
But, unlike him, was scorch'd and compell'd to retire.

‘Recruited once more, I forgot all my pain,
And was jilted, and burnt, and bedevli'd again;
Not a petticoat fring'd, or the heel of a shoe,
Ever pass'd you by day-light, but at it I flew.

‘Thus jilted, and wounded, and burnt to a coal,
For rest I retreated again to be whole;
But your eyes, ever open to lead me astray,
Have beheld a new face and command me away.

‘But remember, in whatever flames I may burn,
'Twill be folly to ask for, or wish my return;
Neither Thais nor Chloe again shall inflame,
But a nymph more provoking than all you can name.’

This said, with a bound from my bosom he flew;
O Phillis! these eyes saw him posting to you:
Enslav'd by your wit, he grows fond of his chain,
And vows I shall never possess him again.