Song CVII., p.353.

[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. 

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