CLOE JEALOUS. Matthew Prior Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T075639 Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721. Poems on Several Occasions [English poems only]. London Printed for JACOB TONSON at Shakespear's-Head over against Katharine-Street in the Strand, and JOHN BARBER upon Lambeth-Hill. MDCCXVIII. 1718 pp. 93-95. [42],506,[6]p.: ill.; 2°.

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