SONG.

By the Same.

AS Chloe ply'd her needle's art,
A purple drop the spear
Made from her heedless finger start,
And from her eyes a tear.

Ah! might but Chloe by her smart
Be taught for mine to feel;
Mine caus'd by Cupid's piercing dart,
More sharp than pointed steel!

Then I her needle would adore,
Love's arrow it should be,
Indu'd with such a subtle pow'r
To reach her heart for me.