A LOVE SONG

(In the modern taste, 1733)

FLUTTERING spread thy purple pinions,

Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart;

I, a slave in thy dominions;

Nature must give way to art.

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,

Nightly nodding o'er your flocks,

See my weary days consuming

All beneath yon flowery rocks.