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A SONG.

I. SYLVIA, the fair, in the bloom of fifteen, Felt an innocent warmth as she lay on the green; She had heard of a pleasure, and something she guest By the towzing, and tumbling, and touching her

breast. She saw the men eager, but was at a loss, What they meant by their sighing, and kissing so

close;

By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,

And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.

II.
Ah! she cried, ah, for a languishing maid,
In a country of Christians, to die without aid !
Not a Whig, or a Tory, or Trimmer at least,
Or a Protestant parson, or Catholic priest,
To instruct a young virgin, that is at a loss,
What they meant by their sighing, and kissing so

close !

By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,

And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.

a

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III. Cupid, in shape of a swain, did appear, He saw the sad wound, and in pity drew near; Then shew'd her his arrow, and bid her not fear, For the pain was no more than a maiden may bear. When the balm was infused, she was not at a loss, What they meant by their sighing, and kissing so

close;

By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,

And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.

1

THE

LADY'S SONG.

The obvious application of this song is to the banishment of King

James, and his beautiful consort Mary of Este.

I. A choir of bright beauties in spring did appear, To chuse a May-lady to govern the year : All the nymphs were in white, and the shepherds

in green,

The garland was given, and Phyllis was queen ;
But Phyllis refused it, and sighing did say,
I'll not wear a garland while Pan is away.

II.
While Pan and fair Syrinx are fled from our shore,
The Graces, are banish’d, and Love is no more ;
The soft god of pleasure, that warm’d our desires,
Has broken his bow, and extinguish'd his fires,
And vows that himself and his mother will mourn,
Till Pan and fair Syrinx in triumph return.

III. Forbear your addresses, and court us no more, For we will perform what the deity swore. But, if you dare think of deserving our charms, Away with your sheep-hooks, and take to your arms; Then laurels and myrtles your brows shall adorn, When Pan, and his son, and fair Syrinx, return.

A SONG,

I. Fair, sweet, and young, receive a prize ,

, Reserved for your victorious eyes : From crowds, whom at your feet you see,

, O pity, and distinguish me!

As I from thousand beauties more
Distinguish you, and only you adore.

II.
Your face for conquest was design'd,
Your every motion charms my mind;
Angels, when you your silence break,
Forget their hymns, to hear you speak;
But

when at once they hear and view, Are loath to mount, and long to stay with you.

III.
No graces can your form improve,
But all are lost, unless you love;
While that sweet passion you disdain,
Your veil and beauty are in vain.

In pity then prevent my fate,
For after dying all reprieve's too late.

A SONG.

High state and honours to others impart,

But give me your heart;
That treasure, that treasure alone,

I beg for my own.
So gentle a love, so fervent a fire,

My soul does inspire;
That treasure, that treasure alone,

I beg for my own.
Your love let me crave;

Give me in possessing

So matchless a blessing ;
That empire is all I would have.

Love's my petition,
All

my ambition ;
If e'er you discover
So faithful a lover,
So real a flame,

I'll die, I'll die,
So give up my game.

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