Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Collection of songs

f *7.4 A COLLECTION
Oh ! be but yourfelves, and our homage we pay,
And your empire is fblid and fure.
But if Amazon-like you attack your gallants,
And put us in fear of our lives,
You may do very well for fitters and aunts,
But, believe me, you'll never be wives.
BEauty gilds the blufhing morn,
Hangs the dew-drop on the thorn ;
Paints the rofe in richeft bloom,
That fills the air with fweet perfume ;
But fweet perfume,
Nor rofe in bloom,
Nor dew-drop bright,
Nor morning-light
In charms can vie .
With woman's eye.
In woman's eye we raptur'd view,
Beauty at once and pleafure too. -
TEll me, dear charmer, tell me why,
All other joys h quickly clcy ;
All but the joys of loving thee,
And they, alone immortal be ;
They neither dull the mind nor fenfe^
Nor lofe their pleafmg influence.
For ever I, with fierce defire,
Could gaze on thee, and never tire ;