Take heed, my Damon, in the Grove,
Where Beauties with design do walk;
Take heed, my Damon, how you look and talk,
For there are Ambuscades of Love.
The very Winds that softly blow,
Will help betray your easy Heart;
And all the Flowers that blushing grow,
The Shades about, and Rivulets below,
Will take the Victor’s part.
Remember, Damon, all my Safety lies
In the just Conduct of your Eyes.
The Heart, by Nature good and brave,
Is to those treacherous Guards a Slave.
If they let in the fair destructive Foe,
Scarce Honour can defend her noble Seat:
Ev’n she will be corrupted too,
Or driv’n to a Retreat.
The Soul is but the Cully to the Sight,
And must be pleas’d in what that takes delight.
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