[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.
