Song XXXVI., pp.284-285.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

FRom rosy bowers, where sleeps the god of love, 

Hither, ye little waiting Cupids, fly; 

Teach me, in soft melodious song, to move 

With tender passion my heart’s darling joy: 

Ah! let the soul of musick tune my voice, 

To win dear Strephon, who my soul enjoys. 


Or if more influencing 

Is, to be brisk and airy, 

With a step and a bound, 

And a frisk from the ground, 

I’ll trip like any fairy: 

As once on Ida dancing, 

Were three celestial bodies, 

With an air and a face, 

And a shape and a grace, 

Let me charm like beauty’s goddess. 


Ah! ah! ‘tis in vain, ‘tis all in vain, 

Death and despair must end the fatal pain; 

Cold despair, disguis’d like snow and rain, 

Falls on my breast; black winds in tempests blow: 

My veins all shiver, and my fingers glow; 

My pulse beats a dead march for lost repose, 

And to a solid lump of ice my poor fond heart is froze. 


Or say, ye powers, my peace to crown, 

Shall I thaw my self, or drown 

Amongst the foaming billows, 

Increasing all with tears I shed; 

On beds of Ooze and christal pillows 

Lay down my love sick head? 


No, no, I’ll straight run mad, 

That soon my heart will warm; 

When once the sense is fled, 

Love has no power to charm: 

Wild thro’ the woods I’ll fly, 

My robes and locks shall thus be tore; 

A thousand thousand deaths I’ll die, 

E’er thus in vain? e’er thus in vain adore. 

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