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Anne Kingsmill Finch - The Cautious Lovers
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Silvia, let`s from the Crowd retire; 
  For, What to you and me 
(Who but each other do desire) 
  Is all that here we see? 

Apart we`ll live, tho` not alone; 
  For, who alone can call 
Those, who in Desarts live with One, 
  If in that One they`ve All? 

The World a vast Meander is, 
  Where Hearts confus`dly stray; 
Where Few do hit, whilst Thousands miss 
  The happy mutual Way: 

Where Hands are by stern Parents ty`d, 
  Who oft, in Cupid`s Scorn, 
Do for the widow`d State provide, 
  Before that Love is born: 

Where some too soon themselves misplace; 
  Then in Another find 
The only Temper, Wit, or Face, 
  That cou`d affect their Mind. 

Others (but oh! avert that Fate!) 
  A well-chose Object change: 
Fly, Silvia, fly, ere `tis too late; 
  Fall`n Nature`s prone to range. 

And, tho` in heat of Love we swear 
  More than perform we can; 
No Goddess, You, but Woman are, 
  And I no more than Man. 

Th` impatient Silvia heard thus long; 
  Then with a Smile reply`d; 
Those Bands cou`d ne`er be very strong, 
  Which Accidents divide. 

Who e`er was mov`d yet to go down, 
  By such o`er-cautious Fear; 
Or for one Lover left the Town, 
  Who might have Numbers here? 

Your Heart, `tis true, is worth them all, 
  And still preferr`d the first; 
But since confess`d so apt to fall, 
  `Tis good to fear the worst. 

In ancient History we meet 
  A flying Nymph betray`d; 
Who, had she kept in fruitful Crete, 
  New Conquest might have made. 

And sure, as on the Beach she stood, 
  To view the parting Sails; 
She curs`d her self, more than the Flood, 
  Or the conspiring Gales. 

False Theseus, since thy Vows are broke, 
  May following Nymphs beware: 
Methinks I hear how thus she spoke, 
  And will not trust too far. 

In Love, in Play, in Trade, in War 
  They best themselves acquit, 
Who, tho` their Int`rests shipwreckt are, 
  Keep unreprov`d their Wit.
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