MATTHEW PRIOR
Fair Chloe blush'd. Euphelia frown'd:
I sung, and gazed. I play'd, and trembled:
And Venus to the Loves around
Remark'd, how ill we all dissembled.
I MY dear, was born to-day j So all my jolly comrades say: They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth, And ask to celebrate my birth* Little, alasl mv comrades know That I was born to pain and woe; To thy denial, to thy scorn, Better I had ne'er been born: I wish to die, even whilst I say '1, my dear, was born to-day.'
I, my dear, was born to-day: Shall I salute the rising ray, Well-spring of all my joy and woe? Clotilda, thou alone dost know. Shall the wreath surround my hair? Or shall the music please my ear? Shall I my comrades' mirth receive, And bless my birth, and wish to live? Then let me see great Venus chase Imperious anger from thy face; Then let me hear thee smiling say 'Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.'
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