Song XCV., p.345.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

DAmon, if you will believe me, 

‘Tis not sighing round the plain, 

Song nor sonnet can relieve ye; 

Faint attempts in love are vain. 


Urge but home the fair occasion, 

And be master of the field; 

To a powerful kind Invasion, 

‘Twere a madness not to yield. 


Tho’ she vows she’’ll ne’er permit ye, 

Crys you’re rude, and much to blame, 

And with tears implores your pity; 

Be not merciful for shame. 


When the fierce assault is over, 

Chloris time enough will find, 

This her cruel furious lover, 

Much more gentle, not so kind. 

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