Tell me no more of flames in love, That none be deceiv'd by time's too quick flowing, That fcornful Silvia's chains I wear Pag. 252 200 21 The chains of love I wear, 114 The lafs that wou'd know how to manage a man, 219 Then never let me fee her more! There ne'er was fo wretched a lover as I, 233 Tho' for feven years and mair honour fhouldreave me, 119 Thou flask, once fill'd with glorious red, Thou gentle god, who doft prefide Thou foft machine that doft her hand obey, Thus Kitty, beautiful and young, Thy vain purfuit, fond youth, give o’er, We'll drink, and we'll never have done, boys, What ho! thou genius of the clime, what ho! When Aurelia first I courted, When Cloe was by Damon feen, 149 198 When I court thee, dear Molly, to grant me the bliss, 37 When I fee the bright nymph who my heart does enthral; 36 When I vifit proud Celia, juft come from my glass, When, lovely Phillis, thou art kind, When love-fick Mars, the god of war, When paffions, ungovern'd by reafon and art, When flaves their liberty require, While Corydon, the lovely fhepherd, try'd While monarchs in ftern battle ftrove While filently I lov3d, nor dar'd 229 62 While I'm a pleading your beauty to gain, 24 165 180 153 54 258 24 Whilft, Galatea, you defign Whilft I, difengag'd from all amorous cares, ENTLY touch the warbling lyre, Fill her foul with fond defire; ' On the moffy bank the lies, VOL. III. B To o you, fair ladies, now in town, We country-men do write; And do invite you to come down, To tafte of our delight: to rate of The weather's fine, the fields are gay, And 'tis the pleasant month of May. D The country's now in all its pride, A thousand pretty flow'rs appear, The cuckow's pick'd up all the dirt; If rural mufick can divert, Each bufh affords a tune: The turtle's heard in every grove, Cou'd we perfuade you to come down, And to our fhades retreat: Wou'd but in our fhades appear, you You'd make our fields Elizium here. We'll fhew you all our cow-flip meads, Sweet Philomel, whofe warbling throat For you we deck and trim our bowers, For you preferve our choiceft flowers, Come then, and take our morning air, Our ev'ning walks more pleasures bring For your own fakes, if not for ours, The country'll give your eyes new pow'rs, And make each beauty glow; "Twill to the lilly add the rofe, And you fhall brighter charms difclofe. |