Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Town Eclogues: Wednesday</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">DANCINDA.<br> &quot; NO, fair DANCINDA, no ; you strive in vain<br> &quot; To calm my care and mitigate my pain ;<br> &quot; If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move,<br> &quot; Ah ! sooth me not with fruitless vows of love.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Thus STREPHON spoke. DANCINDA thus reply'd :<br> `What must I do to gratify your pride ?<br> `Too well you know (ungrateful as thou art)<br> `How much you triumph in this tender heart ;<br> `What proof of love remains for me to grant ?<br> Yet still you teize me with some new complaint.<br> Oh ! would to heav'n ! -- but the fond wish is vain --<br> Too many favours had not made it plain !<br> But such a passion breaks thro' all disguise,<br> Love reddens on my cheek and wishes in my eyes.<br> Is't not enough (inhuman and unkind !)<br> I own the secret conflict of my mind ?<br> You cannot know what secret pain I prove,<br> When I with burning blushes own I love.<br> You see my artless joy at your approach,<br> I sigh, I faint, I tremble at your touch ;<br> And in your absence all the world I shun ;<br> I hate mankind, and curse the cheering sun.<br> Still as I fly, ten thousand swains pursue ;<br> Ten thousand swains I sacrifice to you.<br> I shew you all my heart without disguise :<br> But these are tender proofs that you despise --<br> I see too well what wishes you pursue ;<br> You wou'd not only conquer, but undo :<br> You, cruel victor, weary of your flame,<br> Would seek a cure in my eternal shame ;<br> And not content my honour to subdue,<br> Now strive to triumph o'er my virtue too.<br> Oh ! LOVE, a God indeed to womankind,<br> Whose arrows burn me and whose fetters bind,<br> Avenge thy altars, vindicate thy fame,<br> And blast these traytors that profane thy name,<br> Who by pretending to thy sacred fire,<br> Raise cursed trophies to impure desire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Have you forgot with what ensnaring art<br> You first seduc'd this fond uncautious heart ?<br> Then as I fled, did you not kneeling cry,<br> Turn, cruel beauty ; whither wou'd you fly ?<br> Why all these Doubts ? why this distrustful fear ?<br> No impious wishes shall offend your ear :<br> Nor ever shall my boldest hopes pretend<br> Above the title of a tender friend ;<br> Blest, if my lovely Goddess will permit<br> My humble vow, thus sighing at her feet.<br> The tyrant Love that in my Bosom reigns,<br> The God himself submits to wear your chains ;<br> You shall direct his course, his ardour tame,<br> And check the fury of his wildest flame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Unpractis'd youth is easily deceiv'd ;<br> Sooth'd by such sounds, I listen'd and believ'd :<br> Now quite forgot that soft submissive fear :<br> You dare to ask what I must blush to hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Cou'd I forget the honour of my race,<br> And meet your wishes, fearless of disgrace ;<br> Cou'd passion o'er my tender youth prevail,<br> And all my mother's pious maxims fail ;<br> Yet to preserve your heart (which still must be,<br> False as it is, for ever dear to me)<br> This fatal proof of love I wou'd not give,<br> Which you contemn the moment you receive.<br> The wretched she, who yields to guilty joys<br> A man may pity, but he must despise.<br> Your ardour ceas'd, I then shou'd see you shun<br> The wretched victim by your arts undone.<br> Yet if I cou'd that cold indifference bear,<br> What more wou'd strike me with the last despair,<br> With this reflection wou'd my soul be torn,<br> To know I merited your cruel scorn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Has Love no pleasures free from guilt or fear ?<br> Pleasures less fierce, more lasting, more sincere ?<br> Thus let us gently kiss and fondly gaze,<br> Love is a child, and like a child it plays.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O STREPHON, if you wou'd continue just,<br> If Love be something more than brutal lust,<br> Forbear to ask what I must still deny,<br> This bitter pleasure, this destructive joy,<br> So closely follow'd by the dismal train<br> Of cutting shame, and guilt's heart-piercing pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> She paus'd ; and fix'd her eyes upon her fan ;<br> He took a pinch of snuff, and thus began ;<br> Madam, if Love -- but he cou'd say no more,<br> For Mademoiselle came rapping at the door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The dangerous moments no adieus afford ;<br> Begone, she cries, I'm sure I hear my Lord.<br> The lover starts from his unfinish'd loves,<br> To snatch his hat, and seek his scatter'd gloves :<br> The sighing dame to meet her dear prepares,<br> While STREPHON cursing, slips down the back-stairs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lady+Mary+Wortley+Montagu">Lady Mary Wortley Montagu</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431484" data-title="Town Eclogues: Wednesday de Lady Mary Wortley Montagu" data-description="DANCINDA.
 &quot; NO, fair DANCINDA, no ; you strive in vain
 &quot; To calm my care and mitigate my pain ;
 &quot; If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move,
 &quot; Ah ! sooth me not with fruitless vows of love.&quot;


 Thus STREPHON spoke. D..."></div>
</div>
</div>