Song LXIII., p.315.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

ONE April morn, when from the sea 

Phœbus was just appearing, 

Damon and Celia young and gay, 

Long settled love endearing, 

Met in a grove, to vent their spleen 

On parents unrelenting; 

He bred of Tory-race had been, 

She of the tribe dissenting. 


Celia, whose eyes outshone the God 

Newly the hills adorning, 

Told him, mamma would be stark mad, 

She missing prayers that morning; 

Damon, his arms about her waist 

Swore, tho’ nought should them sunder, 

Shou’d my rough dad know how I’m blest, 

‘Twou’d make him roar like thunder. 


Great ones made by ambition blind, 

By faction still support it, 

Or where vile money taints the mind, 

They for convenience court it: 

But mighty love, that scorns to shew 

Party should raise his glory, 

Swears he’ll exalt a vassal true, 

Let it be whig or tory

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