F will be by time repaid; AIR nymph, remember all your fcorn Thofe glories which that face adorn, Muft one day fet and fade: Then all your cold difdain for me Fair nymph, avoid thofe ftorms of fate The powers above, tho' ne'er fo late, As pitilefs as you. Know, charming maid, the powers divine To wound a heart fo true as mine: That god who my dear flame infus'd, N April, when primroses paint the fweet plain, And summer approaching, rejoyceth the swain, The yellow-hair'd laddie wou'd oftentimes go To wilds and deep glens where the haw-thorn trees grow; There, under the fhade of an old facred thorn, With freedom he fung his loves, evening and morn; Hefang with so soft and inchanting a found, That filvans and fairies unfeen danc'd around, The shepherd thus fung, Tho' young Maya be fair. Her beauty is dash'd by a scornful proud air; But Sufie was handsome, and sweetly cou'd fing, Her breath like the breezes perfum'd in the spring. That Madie, in all the gay bloom of her youth, Like the moon was inconstant, and never spoke truth; But Sufie was faithful, good-humour'd and free, And fair as the goddess that sprung from the fea. That Mamma's fine daughter, with all her great dower, Was awkardly airy, and frequently four: Then, fighing, he with'd, wou'd parents agree, The witty fweet Sufie his mistress might be. Он! O H love, that stronger art than wine! What reason never can bestow When full brute appetite is fed, And fine'ft the grofs delights of fenfe. That against nature can perfwade, E 3 } LET'S L ET's be jovial, fill our glaffes, Madness 'tis for us to think Then never let vain cares oppress us, We're every one as rich as Crœfus, Wine will make us red as roses, Come let's fuddle all our nofes, Drink ourselves quite out of debt. When grim death comes looking for us, Death, begone, here's none but fouls. God-like Bacchus thus commanding, Drinking fouls can never die. Ан Rolling in their humid fires, When the nymph extended lies Full of love and warm defires: Confcious red her face o'er-fpreading, And her heaving bofom rifing; Milky paths to raptures leading, Murmuring fighs her joys difguifing. Happy lovers only know The blifs that from confenting lovers flow. Listen then to young defire, Nor with your pride against your blifs confpire, Perfuades fubftantial pleasure; Like chymick boasts your pride will end In meer imagin'd treasure. Then fure the ftrife you'll foon decide (What can your scruples move?) Betwixt the fickly glare of pride, And generous warmth of love. FAIR |