An Ode. The Merchant, To Secure
The merchant, to secure his treasure, Conveys it in a borrow'd name: Euphelia serves to grace my measure: But Cloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre, Upon Euphelia's toilet lay; When Cloe noted her desire, That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, But with my numbers mix my sighs; And, whilst I sing Euphelia's praise, I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes. Fair Cloe blush'd: Euphelia frown'd: I sung, and gazed: I play'd, and trembled: And Venus to the Loves around Remark'd how ill we all dissembled.
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"The merchant, to secure his treasure,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Matthew Prior delivers a powerful performance in "An Ode. The Merchant, To Secure"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...