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60

The Lover's Parting.

[_]

To a French Air.

She.
Hark! the Trumpet sounds to Arms,
O fatal Noise!
Hark! the Trumpet sounds to Arms,
Adieu my Joys!
Ah! the thousand Fears I prove,
For thy Life, and for my Love.

He.
Cease thy Plaints, and dry thy Tears,
My Charming Maid!
Cease thy Plaints, and dry thy Tears,
Nor Fate upbraid.
Heav'n that makes Mankind its Care,
Guards the Brave to serve the Fair.