University of Virginia Library

SONG XXII. LOVE's WOUND.

Fair Celia, the pleasant Lass
That haunts in secret Groves,
I met, as I happen'd to pass
That Valley where young Cupid roves.
Amazed I stood, as one dumb,
Confounded I was when I saw
So pleasant a Nymph then to come
Towards me; I backwards did draw.
At last I recover'd again,
My Spirits revived, and I
Found a small faint-sick Pain
Thril in at my Breast softly.
What is it, thought I, that I find
So cruel that wakens a Pain?
Besides, I am vex'd in my Mind
With something I cannot explain.
The fair Nymph, at last, she withdrew,
With Ardour, inspite of my Grief,
I after her quickly flew,
Thinking to find some Relief.
Where go you, sweet Lassie, I said;
She modestly blush'd when I spake,
And screen'd her fair Face with her Plaid;
She answer'd me chastly and snack,
Why do you impose on me so?
What want you; or what do you mean?
I'm wandring this Grove too and fro,
To view the fine Flow'rs on the Green.
I told her, that I was the same;
But Maid, from thy glistering Eye,
A Dart, with a soft burning Flame,
So soon as I spy'd thee did fly,
And lighted in my hollow Breast;
O, Goodness! it tortures me sore:
If this Way it rob me of Rest,
I'll walk in the Forrest no more.
Be you the Physician, sweet Maid;
'Tis you that can give me Relief;
By Love I suppose I'm betray'd,
And hopes you will cure me of Grief.