SONG I.
Fatal Constancy.
I
Ciara
, charming without Art,
The Wonder of the Plain,
Wounded by Love's resistless Dart,
Had over fondly giv'n her Heart
To a regardless Swain:
Who, tho' he well knew
Her Passion was true,
Her Truth and her Beauty disdain'd;
While thus the fair Maid
By her Folly betray'd,
To the rest of the Virgins complain'd.
II
Take heed of Man, and while you may,
Shun Love's alluring Snare;
The Joy it promises to Day
Does e'er the Morrow flit away,
And all the rest is Care.
But if you love first
Y'are certainly curst;
Despair will insult in your Breast:
The Nature of Men
Is to slight who love them,
And love those that slight 'em the best.
III
Yet let the Conqu'rour know my Mind,
Ingrateful Celadon,
That he will never, never find
One half so true, or half so kind,
When I am dead and gone!
But as she thus spoke
Her tender Heart broke:
Death spares not the Fair, nor the Young:
So Swans when they die
Make their own Elegy,
And breathe out their Lives in a Song.
