Song LVII., pp.309-310.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

ONE evening as I lay 

A-musing in a grove, 

A nymph exceeding gay 

Came there to seek her love; 

But finding not her swain, 

She sat her down to grieve, 

And thus she did complain, 

How men her sex deceive. 


Believing maids, take care 

Of false deluding men, 

Whose pride is to ensnare 

Each female that they can: 

My perjur’d swain he swore 

A thousand oaths, to prove 

(As many have done before) 

How true he’d be to love. 


Then virgins, for my sake, 

Ne’er trust false man again, 

The pleasure we partake, 

Ne’er answers half the pain; 

Uncertain as the seas, 

Is their unconstant mind, 

At once they burn or freeze, 

Still changing like the wind. 


When she had told her tale, 

Compassion seiz’d my heart, 

And Cupid did prevail 

With me, to take her part: 

Then bowing to the fair, 

I made my kind address, 

And vow’d to bear a share 

In her unhappiness. 


Surpris’d at first she rose, 

And strove from me to fly: 

I told her I’d disclose 

For grief a remedy. 

Then, with a smiling look, 

Said she, to asswage the storm, 

I doubt you’ve undertook 

A task you can’t perform. 


Since proof convinces best, 

Fair maid believe it true, 

That rage is but a jest, 

To what revenge can do: 

Then serve him in his kind, 

And fit the fool again; 

Such charms were ne’er design’d, 

For such a faithless swain. 


I courted her with care, 

Till her soft soul gave way, 

And from her breast so fair, 

Stole the sweet heart away: 

Then she with smiles confess’d, 

Her mind felt no more pain, 

While she was thus caress’d, 

By such a lovely swain. 

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