To a New Scotch Tune.
I.
Come, my Phillis, let us improve
Both our Joyes of Equal Love:
While we in yonder Shady Grove,
Count Minutes by our Kisses.
See the Flowers how sweetly they spread,
And each Resigns his Gawdy Head,
To make for us a Fragrant Bed,
To practice o'er New Blisses.
II.
The Sun it self with Love does conspire,
And sends abroad his ardent Fire,
And kindly seems to bid us retire,
And shade us from his Glory;
Then come, my Phillis, do not fear;
All that your Swain desires there,
Is by those Eyes anew to swear
How much he does adore ye.
III.
Phillis, in vain you shed those Tears;
Why do you blush? Oh speak your Fears!
There's none but your Amyntas hears:
What means this pretty Passion?
Can you fear your Favours will cloy
Those that the Blessing does enjoy?
Ah no! such needless Thoughts destroy:
This Nicety's out of Fashion.
IV.
When thou hast done, by Pan I swear,
Thou wilt unto my Eyes appear
A thousand times more Charming and Fair,
Then thou wert to my first Desire:
That Smile was kind, and now thou'rt wise,
To throw away this Coy Disguise,
And by the vigor of thy Eyes,
Declare thy Youth and Fire.