 | The poems of Dr. Yalden |  |
ADVICE TO A LOVER.
For many unsuccessful years,
At Cynthia's feet I lay;
Battering them often with my tears,
I sigh'd, but durst not pray.
No prostrate wretch, before the shrine
Of some lov'd saint above,
E'er thought his goddess more divine,
Or paid more awful love.
At Cynthia's feet I lay;
Battering them often with my tears,
I sigh'd, but durst not pray.
No prostrate wretch, before the shrine
Of some lov'd saint above,
E'er thought his goddess more divine,
Or paid more awful love.
Still the disdainful nymph look'd down
With coy insulting pride;
Receiv'd my passion with a frown,
Or turn'd her head aside.
Then Cupid whispered in my ear,
“Use more prevailing charms;
You modest whyning fool, draw near,
And clasp her in your arms,
With coy insulting pride;
Receiv'd my passion with a frown,
Or turn'd her head aside.
Then Cupid whispered in my ear,
“Use more prevailing charms;
You modest whyning fool, draw near,
And clasp her in your arms,
With eager kisses tempt the maid,
From Cynthia's feet depart;
The lips he briskly must invade,
That would possess the heart.”
With that I shook off all the slave,
My better fortunes tried;
When Cynthia in a moment gave
What she for years denied.
From Cynthia's feet depart;
The lips he briskly must invade,
That would possess the heart.”
With that I shook off all the slave,
My better fortunes tried;
When Cynthia in a moment gave
What she for years denied.
| The poems of Dr. Yalden | |