The Nymph no longer shall be shy,
But leave the Jilting Road;
And Daphne now no more shall Fly,
The wounded Painted God.
But all shall be Serene and Fair,
No sad complaints of Love,
Shall fill the gentle whispering Air,
No Ecchoing sighs, the Grove.
Beneath the shades young Strephon lies,
Of all his wish possess'd;