WHEN first Aminta saw young Cleon's face, A lad possessing all engaging grace, Much prudence then she ev'ry way displayed, E'en more perhaps than necessary made. For though we may suppose the lovely fair, Would ev'ry effort use to 'scape the snare, Yet when the god of soft persuasion takes The fatal moment, havock soon he makes, In vain his duty, any thing opposed, If once the tender sentiment's disclosed. Aminta consolation had in view 'Twas that alone the passion from her drew, A meeting innocent, to vent her tears, And, to a feeling friend, express her fears. 'Tis represented thus I cannot doubt; But sight of meat brings appetite about; And if you would avoid the tempting bit, 'Tis better far at table not to sit. AMINTA hoped to render Cleon kind; Poor innocent! as yet to dangers blind, These conversations she was led to deem, Mere friendly ways that raised sincere esteem; And this alone she ardently desired, Without supposing more would be required, Or any thing improper be the case: She'd rather die than suffer such disgrace. 'Twas difficult the business to commence; A letter 's often lost, or gives offence, And many serious accidents arrive: To have a confidant 'twere better strive; But where could such a female friend be found? Gerontes dreaded was by all around. I've said already, Cupid will obtain, One way or t'other, what he wants to gain; And this will show the observation just The maxim's such as you may always trust. A FEMALE relative young Cleon had, A peevish prude, who looked upon the lad, As one she had a right to rule and scold; Her name was Mistress Alice: sour and old. ONE summer's day, Aminta to her said: I cannot think how 'tis, your cousin's led, (Though quite indifferent he is to me, And doubtless such will ever prove to be) With various fond attentions, to pretend, He loves me--much beyond a common friend. My window oft he passes day and night; I cannot move a step, but he's in sight, And in a moment at my heels appears; Notes, letters full of soft expressions, dears, To me are sent by one I will not name, For known to you, she would be thought to blame: Pray put an end to such a wild pursuit It nothing can produce but wretched fruit; My husband may take fire at things like these; And as to Cleon.--me he'll never please; I'll thank you to inform him what I say; Such steps are useless: folly they betray.