Here you will find the Poem An Ode. The Merchant, To Secure of poet Matthew Prior
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.
