How softly here express'd you'll find What I describe in vain; The charms of Laura's heavenly mind, The passion of her swain: Let Prior's muse thy pity move, And tell me Laura how I love!
Oh! were my wit like his refin'd, Since equal is my theme, Wast thou as Prior's Chloe kind, And I adorn'd like him; Then should the world his Chloe see, Less beauteous — less admir'd than thee, For Prior never lov'd like me!
