For Years, for Months, for Weeks or Days, I"ll let this famous Bow"r; Nay rather than a Tennant want, I"d let it for an Hour.
There"s round about a pleasant Grove, To shade it from the Sun; And underneath is Well water That pleasantly does run.
Where if you"re hot you may be cool"d, If cold you may find heat; It is a well contrived Spring, Not little nor too great.
The place is very Dark by Night, And so it is by Day; But when you once are enter"d in, You cannot lose your way.
And when you"re in, go boldly on, As far as e"er you can; And if you reach to the House top, You"ll be where ne"er was Man.
Tune, _Draw_ Cupid _Draw_.
Here, _Chloe_ hear, And do not turn away, From my Desire, but quench my Fire.
And my Love"s flames allay: And let my Song go along, Unto Compa.s.sion move; And make you kind, And bend your mind, And melt you into Love.
If _Chloe_ Loves, and Constant proves, Oh! happy, happy then am I; But if that she unconstant be, And do"s delight to rove: As sure as Gun, I am undone, And shan"t have power to move.
_Fashionable_ Shepherdess, _Set by Mr._ Ramondon.
[Music]
At the break of morning light, When the marbled Sky look gay; Nature self all perfect bright, Smil"d to see the G.o.d of Day: Charming prospect, verdant Trees, Azure Hill, enamell"d Sky; Birds with warbling Throats to please, Striving each which shall outvey.
_Lisbea_ then with wond"rous hast, O"er a green sword Plain she flew; Thus my Angel as she past, The Eyes of ev"ry Shepherd drew: When they had the Nymph espyed, All amazed cry"d there she goes; Thus by blooming Beauty tryed, Thought a second Sun arose.
Ev"ry Swain the Sun mistook.
Dazled by refulgent Charms; And with Joy their Flocks forsook, For to follow Love"s Alarms: All "till now were perfect Friends, Bound by Innocence and Truth; "Till sly Love to gain his ends, Made a difference "twixt each Youth.
Each expected which should be, Made the happy Man by Love; While for want of Liberty, None could truly happy prove: But at length they all arriv"d, To a charming easie Grove; Where the Nymph had well contriv"d, To be happy with her Love.
There in amorous folding twin"d, _Strephon_ with his _Lisbea_ lay; Both to mutual Joys enclin"d, Let their Inclinations stray: As the curling Vines embracing, Fondly of the Oak around; So the blooming Nymphs caressing, Of her Swain with pleasure crown"d.
How surpriz"d were ev"ry Swain, When they found the Nymph engaged; Disappointment heighten"d Pain, "Till it made them more enraged: Arm your self with Resolution, Cry"d the most revengeful he; We"ll contrive her Swains Confusion, Let him fall as much as we.
Several Punishments they Invented, For to Torture helpless he; All revengeful, ne"er contented, Cruel to a vast Degree: One more envious in the rear, Thus his Sentiments let slip; Make him like the Cavalier, And for the _Opera_ him Equip.
_A_ Scotch SONG _in the Play call"d_ Love at first Sight: _Set by the late Mr._ JER. CLARK.
[Music]
The Rosey Morn lukes blith and Gay, The Lads and La.s.ses on the Plain; Her bonny, bonny sports pa.s.s o"er the Day, And leave poor _Jenny_ tol complain: My _Sawndy"s_ grown a faithless Loon, And given, given _Moggy_ that wild Heart; Which eance he swore was aw my own, But now weese me I"ve scarce a part.
Gang thy gate then perjur"d _Sawndy_, Ise nea mere will Mon believe; Wou"d Ise nere had trusted any, They faw Thieves will aw deceive: But gin ere Ise get mere Lovers, Ise Dissemble as they do; For since Lads are grown like Rovers, Pray why may na La.s.ses too.
_The_ Restauration: _Or the_ Coventry SONG.
1710.
[Music]
The Restauration now"s the Word, A blessed Revolution; That has secur"d the Church, the Crown, And _England"s_ Const.i.tution: May ev"ry Loyal Soul rejoice, May WHIGS and Canters mourn, Sir; Who ever thought that _Coventry_, Shou"d make a due Return, Sir.
We Rally"d the Church-Militant, And fell to work ding-dong, Sir; _Craven_ and _Gery_ are the Names, That do adorn our Song, Sir: _Beaufort_, _Ormond_, _Rochester_, And more than we can tell, Sir; Are Themes that well deserve the Pen, Of brave _Sacheverell_, Sir.
The glorious Sons of _Warwickshire_, May justly be commended; There"s ne"er a Member now Elect, That ever has offended: _Denbigh_ and _Craven_ we esteem, A Loyal n.o.ble pair, Sir; And hope to see our worthy Friend, Great _Bromly_ in the Chair, Sir.
_A_ SONG.
Such an happy, happy Life, Ne"er had any other Wife; As the loose _Corinna_ knows, Between her Spark, Her Spark and Spouse: The Husband lies and winks his Eyes, The valiant makes Addresses, The wanton Lady soon complies, With tenderest Caresses.
The Wife is pleas"d, The Husband eas"d, The Lover made a drudge, His Body"s drain"d, his Pocket"s squeez"d; And who"ll his Pleasure grudge, _Such an happy_, &c.
_Corinna"s_ gay, As Flow"rs in _May_, And struts with slanting Ayre; The Lovers for her Pride doth pay, The Cuckold"s free from Care, _Such an happy_, &c.
COLLIN"s _Complaint_.
[Music]
Despairing besides a clear stream, A Shepherd forsaken was laid; And whilst a false Nymph was his Theme, A Willow supported his Head: The Winds that blew over the Plain, To his Sighs with a Sigh did reply; And the Brook in return of his Pain, Ran mournfully murmuring by.
Alas silly Swain that I was, Thus sadly complaining he cry"d; When first I beheld that fair Face, "Twere better by far I had dy"d: She talk"d, and I blest the dear Tongue, When she smil"d "twas a Pleasure too great; I listned, and cry"d when she Sung, Was Nightingale ever so sweet.
How foolish was I to believe, She cou"d doat on so lowly a Clown; Or that a fond Heart wou"d not grieve, To forsake the fine Folk of the Town: To think that a Beauty so gay, So kind and so constant wou"d prove; Or go clad like our Maidens in Gray, Or live in a Cottage on Love.
What tho" I have skill to complain, Tho" the Muses my Temples have crown"d; What tho" when they hear my soft Strains, The Virgins sit weeping around: Ah _Collin_ thy Hopes are in vain, Thy Pipe and thy Lawrel resign; Thy false one inclines to a Swain, Whose Musick is sweeter than thine.