By tasting to-night, may be happy to-morrow,
And warble as blythe as the birds on the spray.
The tear shall cease flowing,
Her heart cease its glowing,
For plighted troth broken, no longer complain;
The bow and the dart,
That occasion’d her smart,
’Squire Cupid may twang, but their twanging be vain.
Oh Chester, &c.
And oh let the damsel, whose ringlets appear