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 pursu'd her,
Yet she never would incline;
Strephon too as vainly woo'd her,
Though his flocks are more than thine.
At Diana's shrine aloud,
By the zone around her waist,
Thrice she bow'd, and thrice she vow'd
Like the Goddess to be chaste.
More verses by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
- Verses Written In A Garden
- Epistle From Mrs. Yonge To Her Husband
- Saturday, The Small-Pox
- Epistle From Arthur Grey, The Footman, To Mrs. Murray, After His Condemnation For Attempting To Commit Violence.
- The Reasons That Induced Dr S To Write A Poem Call'D The Lady's Dressing Room