University of Virginia Library


380

A SONG TO A COQUETTE.

Dear Phillis! thou know'st not thy charms;
That thy cheek boasts the bloom of the rose;
That thine eye by its lustre alarms;
That thy bosom surpasses the snows.
Thou know'st thou hast wit at thy will;
Yet from wit, often Prudence departs:
Thus furnish'd with weapons to kill,
Thou daily art murd'ring poor hearts.
Not safely a swain can pass by,
Thou art ready his steps to beguile;
Some lure is thrown out from thine eye,
Some lure from a song or a smile.
O learn from the minstrel of night
A lesson to govern the maid!
Though he fills every ear with delight,
He sings amid silence and shade.