Song CV., pp.350-352.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

ON a bank of flowers, 

In a summer day, 

Inviting and undrest, 

In her bloom of youth, 

Fair Celia lay, 

With love and sleep opprest; 

When a youthful swain, 

With admiring eyes, 

Wish’d that he durst 

The sweet maid surprise; 

With a fa, la, la, la, &c. 

But fear’d approching spies. 


As he gaz’d, 

A gentle Zypher arose, 

That fann’d her robes aside; 

And the sleeping nymph 

Did the charms disclose, 

Which waking she would hide: 

Then his breath grew short, 

And his pulse beat high, 

He long’d to touch 

What he chanc’d to spy; 

With a fa, la, la, &c. 

But durst not still draw nigh. 


All amaz’d he stood, 

With her beauties sir’d, 

And blest the courteous wind; 

Then in whispers sigh’d, 

And the Gods desir’d, 

That Celia might be kind: 

When with hopes grown bold, 

He advanc’d amain; 

But she laugh’d loud 

In a dream, and again, 

With a fa, la, la, &c. 

Repell’d the timerous swain. 


Yet the amorous youth, 

To relieve his soft pain, 

The slumbering maid caress’d; 

And with trembling hand 

(O simple poor swain!) 

Her glowing bosom press’d: 

When the virgin awak’d, 

And affrighted flew, 

Yet look’d as wishing 

He would pursue; 

With a fa, la, la, &c. 

But Damon miss’d his cue. 


Now, now repenting, 

That he had let her fly, 

Himself he thus accus’d, 

What a dull and a stupid 

Blockhead was I, 

That such a chance abus’d; 

To my shame ‘twill now 

On the plains be said, 

Damon a virgin 

Asleep betray’d, 

With a fa, la, la, &c. 

And let her go a maid. 

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