Let this great maxim be my virtue’s guide,—

Satire should, like a polished razor keen, Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.

Be plain in dress, and sober in your diet; In short, my deary, kiss me, and be quiet.

Though I never get possession, ’Tis a pleasure to adore; Hope, the wretch’s only blessing, May, in time, procure me more.Constant courtship may obtain her, Where both wealth and merit fail; And the lucky minute gain her—

Civility costs nothing and buys everything.

Cease, fond shepherd! Cease desiring What you never must enjoy; She derides your vain aspiring, She, to all your sex is coy.Cunning Damon once pursued her, Yet she never would incline; Strephon too, as vainly wooed her,

But the fruit that can fall without shaking Indeed is too mellow for me.