[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
OH! happy, happy grove,
Witness of our tender love;
Oh! happy, happy shade,
Where first our vows were made:
Blushing, sighing, melting, dying,
Looks would charm a Jove;
A thousand pretty things she said,
And all — and all was love:
But Corinna perjur’d proves,
And forsakes the shady groves;
When I speak of mutual joys,
She knows not what I mean;
Wanton Glances, fond caresses,
Now no more are seen,
Since the false deluding fair
Has left the flow’ry green:
Mourn, ye nymphs, that sporting play’d,
Where poor Strephon was betray’d;
There the secret wound she gave,
When I was made her slave.
