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←→ ←→ ←→ ←→ + ←→ ←→ ←→ ←→
BEAUTY AND RIGOUR.
THE nymph that undoes me is fair and unkind,
No less than a wonder by nature designed;
She's the grief of my heart, and the joy of my eye,
And the cause of a flame that never can die.
And the cause, &c.
Her mouth, from whence wit still obligingly flows,
Has the beautiful blush, and the smell of the rose:
Love and destiny both attend on her will,
She wounds with a look, with a frown she can kill.
The desperate lover can hope no redress,
Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess;
In Silvia they meet, so unhappy am I,
Who sees her must love, who loves her must die.
++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++ ++
The RETURN from the CHACE.
THE sweet rosy morn peeps over the hills,
With blushes adorning the meadows and fields;
The merry, merry, merry horn calls, Come, come away,
Awake from your slumbers and hail the new day.
The merry, merry, &c.
The flag rouz'd before us, away seems to fly,
And pants to the chorus of hounds in full cry,
Then follow, follow, follow the musical chace,
Where pleasure and vigorous health you embrace.
The day's sport when over makes blood circle right,
And gives the brisk lover fresh charms for the night;
Then let us now enjoy all we can when we may,
Let love crown the night, as our sports crown the day.
FINIS.
