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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457111" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Ode. The Merchant, To Secure</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457111" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The merchant, to secure his treasure,<br>Conveys it in a borrow'd name:<br>Euphelia serves to grace my measure:<br>But Cloe is my real flame.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457111" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My softest verse, my darling lyre,<br>Upon Euphelia's toilet lay;<br>When Cloe noted her desire,<br>That I should sing, that I should play.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457111" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,<br>But with my numbers mix my sighs;<br>And, whilst I sing Euphelia's praise,<br>I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457111" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Fair Cloe blush'd: Euphelia frown'd:<br>I sung, and gazed: I play'd, and trembled:<br>And Venus to the Loves around<br>Remark'd how ill we all dissembled.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Matthew+Prior">Matthew Prior</a></strong></div>

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