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SONG.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


81

SONG.

A Shepherdess To Her Lover Sleeping.

I

No longer, Gentle Youth, no longer sleep:
Reveal the Beauties of those Eyes,
Thy faithful Flock of mournful Sheep
Neglect their needful Food until you rise;
Unveil your Eyes which Ebon Brows adorn,
These black as Night, those fairer than the Morn.

II

If Kisses might their dawning Light disclose,
I there a Thousand wou'd bestow;
But why shou'd I provoke my Lovely Foes
That sleeping wake my Cares, and wound me too?
Thus we poor Virgins by Experience find,
The God of Love can kill, tho' he is blind.