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Think in what perfect bliss you reign'd,
How lov’d before thy fall;
And now, alas ! how much disdain’d
By me, and scorn’d by all.
Yet thinking of each happy hour,
Which I with thee have spent,
So robs my rage of all its power,
That I almost relent.
But pride will never let me bow,
No more thy charms can move:
Yet thou art worth my pity now,
Because thou hads’ my love.
AccEPT, my love, as true a heart
As ever lover gave :
'Tis free (it vows) from any art,
And proud to be your slave.
Then take it kindly, as 'twas meant,
And let the giver live:
Who with it would the world have sent.
Had it been his to give.
And, that Dorinda may not fear
I e'er will prove untrue,
My vows shall, ending with the year,
With it begin anew.
SET BY MR. DE FESCH.
NANNY blushes when I woo her,
And, with kindly-chiding eyes,
Faintly says, I shall undo her,
Faintly, O forbear! she cries.
But her breasts while I am pressing,
While to hers my lips I join,
Warm'd she seems to taste the blessing:
And her kisses answer mine.
While fretting I must lie alone,
Cursing the powers divine,
That undeservedly have thrown
A pearl unto a swine.
Then, Phillis, heal my wounded heart,
My burning passion cool;
Let me at least in thee have part
With thy insipid fool.
All the swains on you attending
Show how much your charms deserve;
But, miser-like, for fear of spending,
You amidst your plenty starve.
While a thousand freer lasses,
Who their youth and charms employ,
Though your beauty theirs surpasses,
Live in far more perfect joy.
HASTE, my Nannette, my lovely maid,
Haste to the bower thy swain has made ;
For thee alone I made the bower,
And strew'd the couch with many a flower.
None but my sheep shall near us come :
Venus be prais'd my sheep are dumb.
Great god of love take thou my crook,
To keep the wolf from Nannette's flock.
Guard thou the sheep, to her so dear;
My own, alas ! are less my care.
But, of the wolf if thou’rt afraid,
Come not to us to call for aid;.
For with her swain my love shall stay,
Though the wolf prowl, and the sheep stray.
SINCE by ill fate I’m forc'd away,
And snatch'd so soon from those dear arms;
Against my will I must obey,
And leave those sweet endearing charms.
Yet still love on ; and never fear,
But you and constancy will prove
Enough my present flame to bear,
And make me, though in absence, love.
For, though your presence fate denies,
I feel, alas ! the killing smart;
And can with undiscerned eyes
Behold your picture in my heart.
IN vain, alas ! poor Strephon tries
To ease his tortur’d breast;
Since Amoret the cure denies,
And makes his pain a jest.
Ah! fair one, why to me so coyo
And why to him so true,
Who with more coldness slights the joy,
Than I with love pursue 2