O BELL thy looks have kill’d my heart,
I pass the day in pain,
When night returns I feel the smart,
And wish for thee in vain.
I’m starving cold, while thou art warm:
Have pity and incline,
And grant me for a hap that charming petticoat of thine.
My ravish’d fancy in amaze,
Still wanders o’er thy charms,
Delusive dreams ten thousand ways,
Present thee to my arms.
But waking think what I endure,
While cruel you decline
Those pleasures, which can only cure
This panting breast of mine.
I faint, I fail, and wildly rove,
Because you still deny
The just reward that’s due to love,
And let true passion die.
Oh! turn and let compassion seize
That lovely breast of thine;
Thy petticoat could give me ease,
If thou and it were mine.
Sure heaven has fitted for delight
That beauteous form of thine,
And thou’rt too good its law to slight,
By hindring the design.
May all the powers of love agree,
At length to make thee mine,
Or loose my chains, and let me free
From ev’ry charm of thine.