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. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s