Song LXXXVII., p.339.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

CElia, too late you wou’d repent: 

The offering all your store, 

Is now but like a pardon sent, 

To one that’s dead before. 

– 

While at the first you cruel prov’d, 

And grant the bliss too late, 

You hindred me of one I lov’d, 

To give me one I hate. 

– 

I thought you innocent as fair, 

When first my court I made; 

But when your falshoods plain appear, 

My love no longer stay’d. 

– 

Your bounty of these favours shown, 

Whose worth your first deface, 

Is melting valu’d medals down, 

And giving us the brass. 

– 

O! since the thing we beg’s a toy, 

That’s priz’d by love alone, 

Why cannot women grant the joy, 

Before the love is gone. 

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