To Cloe
Cloe's the wonder of her sex:
'Tis well her heart is tender;
How might such killing eyes perplex,
With virtue to defend her?
But nature, graciously inclin'd,
Not bent to vex, but please us,
Has, to her boundless beauty, join'd
A boundless will to ease us.
'Tis well her heart is tender;
How might such killing eyes perplex,
With virtue to defend her?
But nature, graciously inclin'd,
Not bent to vex, but please us,
Has, to her boundless beauty, join'd
A boundless will to ease us.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.