'You tell me, I'm handsome, I know not how true! And easy, and chatty, and good-humoured too; That my lips are as red as the rosebud in June, And my voice, like the nightingale's, sweetly in tune: All this has been told me, by twenty before; But he that would win me, must flatter me more! 'If Beauty, from Virtue receive no supply; Or Prattle, from Prudence; how wanting am I! My ease and good humour short raptures will bring; And my voice, like the nightingale's, knows but a Spring! For charms such as these, then, your praises give o'er! To love me for life, you must love me for more! 'Then, talk to me not of a shape, or an Air ; For CLOE, the wanton, can rival me there! 'Tis Virtue alone, that makes Beauty look gay; And brightens Good Humour, as sunshine the day! For that, if you love me, your flame shall be true; And I, in my turn, may be taught to love too! How blessed has my time been! what days have I known! Through walks grown with woodbines, as often we stray, Around us our boys and girls frolic and play. How pleasing their sport is, the wanton ones see; And borrow their looks from my JESSE and me. To try her sweet temper, sometimes am I seen What though on her cheek the rose loses its hue; Her ease and good humour bloom all the year through! TIME still, as he flies, brings increase to her truth; And gives to her mind, what he steals from her youth! Ye Shepherds so gay, who make love to ensnare ; And cheat, with false vows, the too credulous Fair! In search of true pleasure, how vainly you roam! To hold it for life, you must find it at home! WHEN SAPPHO tuned the raptured strain; For while she struck the quivering wire, But had she added still to these, She ne'er had pined beneath disdain! THY fatal shafts unerring move! For while I gaze, my bosom glows! My falt'ring tongue attempts, in vain, Condemned to nurse eternal care, LET the Nymph still avoid, and be deaf to the Swain, Who in transports of Passion affects to complain : For his rage, not his love, in that frenzy is shown; And the blast that blows loudest is soon overblown! But the Shepherd whom CUPID has pierced to the heart, Though silent his tongue, he will plead with his eyes; To fix her! 'Twere a task as vain 'I know it, friend! She 's light as air! 'She's such a miser too in love, 'Blushing at such inglorious reign, Resolved no more to be betrayed! 'Ah! friend! 'Tis but a short-lived trance, So soft! so elegant! so fair! Sure, something more than human 's there! I must submit: for strife is vain! 'Twas Destiny that forged the chain!' |