Oh! dear loved first, without thy useful aid,
This my charade would never have been made.
My second modern misses think the fashion,
By giving way to an imprudent passion;
My whole in Homer’s Odyssey you’ll find,
A noble pattern for all womankind.
When Strephon tells his tender tale,
To Celia, young and gay,
Without my first, the melting strains
Would die unheard away:
But if the gentle nymph inclines
His passion to approve;
By them, ere long my second’s sought,
To crown their virtuous love.
Possest [possessed] of this, ’tis ten to one,
Before the year goes round,
Attending near her lovely cheek,
My tout-ensemble’s [whole] found.