Let her in anger perfevere,
Be jealous as before;
Till I begin to huff, and swear
I'll never fee her more.
Then let her use a little art,
And lay afide her frown;
Let her fome am'rous glances dart,
To bring my paffion down,
Thus whilft I am again on fire,
Make me renew my pain ;
Make her confent to my defire,
And me still hug my chain.
Sung by JUNO, in the Fudgement of
LET ambition fire thy mind,
Thou wert born o'er men to reign;
Not to follow flocks defign'd;
Scorn thy crook, and leave the plain,
Crowns I'll throw beneath thy feet;
Thou on necks of kings fhalt tread ;
Joys in circles joys fhall meet,
Which way e'er thy fancy's led.
Let not toils of empire fright;
Toils of empire pleasures are ;
Thou shalt only know delight;
All the joy but not the care.
Shepherd, if thou'lt yeild the prize,
For the bleffings I bestow,
Joyful I'll afcend the skies,
Happy thou shalt reign below.
on Melania gazing,
I furvey each pleasing grace,
And, with eager joys embracing,
Dwell on that angelick face.
There, with endless raptures kiffing,
I cou'd breath my foul away;
But my eyes, the pleasure miffing,
Chide my lips too long delay.
Left the eye fhou'd want its longing,
I a while quit t'other bliss;
But my lips, their lofs bemoaning,
Prompt me to another kiss:
That perpetually renewing
Thofe two never-fading joys,
Kiffing her, by turns, and viewing,
Pleas'd I feaft both lips and eyes.
But let not vanity fool ye,
For I must tell you truly,
I ne'er can abide
To worship your pride,
My will is fo unruly.
I'm not the fool you'd have me;
No tyrant can enslave me;
No prude alive
Shall me deprive
Of the liberty nature gave me.
Tho' beauty at first inclin'd me,
Good humour alone can bind me;
Then if you think fit
Your flouting to quit,
A faithful lover you'll find me.
To one perfuading a Lady to marriage.
ORBEAR, bold youth, all's heav'n here;
And what you do aver,
To others courtship may appear,
'Tis facrilege to her.
She is a publick deity:
And were't not very odd,
She shou'd depofe helself to be
A petty houshold god?
First make the fun in private fhine,
And bid the world adieu,
That fo he may his beams confine,
In complement to you.
But, if of that you do defpair,
Think how you've done amifs,
To strive to fix her beams, which are
More bright and large than his.
H happy, happy groves,
Witness of our tender loves;
Oh happy, happy fhade,
Where first our vows were made:
Blushing, fighing, melting, dying,
Looks wou'd charm a Jove :
A thousand pretty things she said,
And all was love.
But Corinna perjur'd proves,
And forfakes the fhady groves;
When I fpeak of mutual joys,
Knows not what I mean:
Wanton glances, fond careffes,
Now no more are seen,
Since the falfe deluding fair
Left the flowery green.
Mourn ye nymphs, that sporting play'd'
Where poor Strephon was betray'd;
There the fecret wound fhe gave,
When I first was made her flave.
|