To
a
LADY
:
She
refusing
to
continue
a
Dispute
with
me
,
and
leaving
me
in
the
Argument
.
An
ODE
.
I.
Spare
,
Gen'rous
Victor
,
spare
the
Slave
,
Who
did
unequal
War
pursue
;
That
more
than
Triumph
He
might
have
,
In
being
overcome
by
You
.
II
.
In
the
Dispute
whate'er
I
said
,
My
Heart
was
by
my
Tongue
bely'd
;
And
in
my
Looks
You
might
have
read
,
How
much
I
argu'd
on
your
side
.
III
.
You
,
far
from
Danger
as
from
Fear
,
Might
have
sustain'd
an
open
Fight
:
For
seldom
your
Opinions
err
:
Your
Eyes
are
always
in
the
right
.
IV
.
Why
,
fair
One
,
would
You
not
rely
On
Reason's
Force
with
Beauty's
join'd
?
Could
I
their
Prevalence
deny
;
I
must
at
once
be
deaf
and
blind
.
V.
Alas
!
not
hoping
to
subdue
,
I
only
to
the
Fight
aspir'd
:
To
keep
the
beauteous
Foe
in
view
Was
all
the
Glory
I
desir'd
.
VI
.
But
She
,
howe'er
of
Vict'ry
sure
,
Contemns
the
Wreath
too
long
delay'd
;
And
,
arm'd
with
more
immediate
Pow'r
,
Calls
cruel
Silence
to
her
Aid
.
VII
.
Deeper
to
wound
,
See
shuns
the
Fight
:
She
drops
her
Arms
,
to
gain
the
Field
:
Secures
her
Conquest
by
her
Flight
;
And
triumphs
,
when
She
seems
to
yield
.
VIII
.
So
when
the
Parthian
turn'd
his
Steed
,
And
from
the
Hostile
Camp
withdrew
;
With
cruel
Skill
the
backward
Reed
He
sent
;
and
as
He
fled
,
He
slew
.