Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Lark

[ i67 ]
O hal I but a Pow'r like thiiae,
I'd turn whate'er I touch to Wine.
I'd turn, §pc.
Each purling Stream fliou'd feel my Forcej
Each ITifli my fatal )^owet mourn j
EachFifli,_a-.c.
And wond'ring at the mighty Changej,
And wond'ring, &c.
Shou'd in their native Regions burn,
ShouM in, Qpc.
Not Hiou'd there any dare t' approach
Unto my mantliog, fparkling Shrinej
"Unto my, &c.
But firft ihou'd pay their Votes to mc,
Butfirft, &C.
And ftile me only God of Wine,
ADdftile,a'C.
|s O N G CLXXXIir. ^s Chloe, ^£.
AS Chhe o'er the Meadow paft,
I view'd the lovely Maid;
She turn'd and blufli'd, renew'd her Haftffg
And fcar'd by me to be embrac'd :
My Eyes my Wiih betray'd.
I trembling felt the tifing Flame,
The charming Nymph putfu'dj
Daphne vf as not fo bright a Game,
Tho' Great Apollo's darling Dame,
Nor with fuch Charms endu'd.
foUow'd clofe, the Fair ftill flew
Along the grafTy Plain 5
The Gvafs, at lengtli, my Rival grew,
And catch'd my Chios by the Shoe,
Her Speed was then in vain.