The little Warblers of the Air
In thy foft Sorrow feem to fhare,
And plaintive Notes like Sighs impart.
The Rofe, that late adorn'd thy Brow,
And near thee glow'd with brighter Grace;
And ev'ry Flow'r that bloom'd but now,
Their fragrant Beauties penfive bow,
Sweet drooping Copies of thy Face.
The God of Love, ev'n he thy Foe,
Unftrings his Bow, neglects his Dart;
And foften'd with Louifa's Woe,
Does all his cruel Wiles forego,
And filent, weeps his fatal Art.
SONG CLXIV. Beneath a fhady, &c.
Eneath a fhady Willow,
Hard by a purling Stream;
A moffy Bank my Pillow,
I fancy'd in a Dream,
That I the charming Phillis
Did eagerly embrace;
Her Breaft as white as Lilies,
And Rofamonda's Face.
What Extafies of Pleasure
She gave, to tell's in vain,
When with the hidden Treasure
She blefs'd her am'rous Swain:
Cou'd nought but Joys discover,
And I my Dream believe;
I fo cou'd fleep for ever,
And ftill be fo deceiv'd.
But when I wak'd, deluded,
And found all but a Dream;
I fain wou'd have eluded
The melancholy Theme.
Ye Gods! there's no enduring
So exquifite a Pain ;
The Wound is paft all curing,
That Cupid gave the Swain.
SONG CLXV. Charming Chloe, &.
Harming Chloe, look with Pity
"On your faithful Love-fick Swain,
Hear, oh! hear his doleful Ditty,
And relieve his mighty Pain.
Find you Mufick in his fighing?
Can you fee him in Diftrefs?
Wishing, trembling, panting, dying,
Yet afford no kind Redress!
Strephon mov'd by lawless Paffion
For no Favours rudely fues;
All his Flame is out of Fashion,
Ancient Honour for him wooes.
Love for Love's the Swain's Ambition,
But if that is deem'd too great ;
Pity, pity his Condition,
Say, at least, you do not hate,
Shpu'd you, fonder of a Rover,
Practis'd in the Art of Guile,
Slight so true and kind a Lover,
Chloe, might not Strephon smile?
Yes, well pleas'd at thy undoing,
Vulgar Lovers might upbraid;
Strepbon, confcious of thy Ruin,
Soon would be a filent Shade.."
SONG CLXVI. Damon, &e.
AMON afk'd me but once, and I faintly
Intending to fnap him the next time he try'd. But alas! he's determin'd to ask me no more, And now makes his Suit to the fam'd Leonore. Yet why fhou'd I grieve? for I am well affur'd, Had he lov'd me, he ne'er wou'd have ta’en the firft Word;
Tho' he fawns and he cringes, I'll venture to fay, That Man is a Fool, that will take the firût Nay,
Had his Love been fincere, and he really in Pain,
He then wou'd have afk'd me again and again
But adieu; let him go; for I never will ver
A Swain that's in earnest allows for our Sex.
SONG CLXVII. Beauty and, &c.
Bright as to you belong,
Wit, Maid,
Charm all Mankind without the Aid
Of foft melodious Song,
Why will you add, enchanting Fair,
The Magick of your Voice;
By which in us you caufe Defpair,
Yet make our Fate our Choice.
In vain to tempt Laertes' Heir
Their Songs the Syrens try'd ;
But cou'd their Notes with thine compare,
He must have heard, and dy'd.
Sing on, bright Maid, repeat each Strain,
Tho' in each Strain's a Dart;
We die by Pleasure, not by Pain,
While thus you pierce the Heart.
SONG CLXVIII. Why is your, &c.
HY is your faithful Slave difdain'd 3
By gentle Arts my Heart you gain'd,
Oh, keep it by the fame!
For ever fhall my Passion last,
If you will make me once poffeft
Of what I dare not name.
Tho' charming are your Wit and Face,
'Tis not alone to hear and gaze,
That will fuffice my Flame;
Love's Infancy on Hopes may live,
But you to mine full grown must give
Of what I dare not name.
When I behold your Lips, your Eyes,
Thofe fnowy Breafts that fall and rife,
Fanning my raging Flame;
That Shape fo made to be embrac'd,
What would I give I might but tafte
Of what I dare not name!
In Courts I never wish to rise,
Both Wealth and Honour I defpife,
And that vain Breath call'd Fame ;
By Love I hope no Crowns to gain,
'Tis fomething more I would obtain,
'Tis that I dare not name.
SONG CLXIX. Sabina, &c. Abina in the dead of Night
In restless Slumbers wishing lay,
Cynthia was Bawd, and her clear Light
To loose Defires did lead the Way:
I stepp'd to her Bedfide with bended Knee,
And fure Sabina saw,
And fure Sabina faw,
And fure Sabina faw,
I'm fure fhe faw, but would not fee.
I drew the Curtains of the Lawn,
Which did her whiter Body keep;
But ftill the nearer I was drawn,
Methought the fafter she did fleep;
I call'd Sabina foftly in her Ear,
And fure Sabina heard, but would not hear.
Thus, as fome midnight Thief (when all
Are wrapp'd into a Lethargy)
Silently creeps from Wall to Wall,
To fearch for hidden Treasury:
So mov'd my bufy Hand from Head to Heel, And fure Sabina felt, and would not feel.
Thus I ev'n by a Wish enjoy,
And the without a Blush receives;
As by diffembling moft are coy,
She by diffembling freely gives:
For you may fafely fay, nay fwear it too,
Sabina fhe did hear,
Sabina fhe did fee,
Sabina the did feel,
She did hear, fee, feel, figh, kifs and do,
SONG CLXX. Young Thyrfis, &c.
Young Thyrfis, once the jollieft Swain
That ever charm'd the lift'ning Plaip,
Attentive to his Glee ;
While Nymphs around the Rover throng,
He tun'd his Pipe, and all his Song
Was, J'aime la Liberté.
Bright Chloe, ev'ry Shepherd's Care,
And Flavia, fairest of the Fair,
Are now no longer free:
Coy Delia felt unusual Pain,
All grieve to hear the Shepherd's Strain
Was, J'aime la Liberté.
The Youth, by Inclination fway'd,
A fofter Tune had often play'd
To ev'ry charming She:
None fear Delufion from his Tongue,
For all he faid, and all he fung
Was, J'aime la Liberté.
The treacherous Boy thus play'd his Part
In Triumph o'er each female Heart;
Oh! who fo bleft as he?
Who had each Nymph a Mother made,
While all he fung, and all he faid,
Was, J'aime la Liberté,
SONG CLXXI. Linco found, &c.
INCO found Damon lying
the Plain;
In Tears upon
And laughing at his Crying,
Encreas'd poor Damon's Pain.
Cries Damon, Mortal, fly me,
Or by the Pow'r divine,
Cries Linco, don't defy me,
And fhews a Flafk of Wine.
This foolish pining Lover
Will teach thee how to ftorm,
Thy Gaiety recover,
And make the Maid grow warms
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