The Squire's Grief Crown'd with Comfort: OR, Nectar preferr'd before Scornfull Cynthia,
To the Tune of Let the Soldiers rejoyce.
Licensed according to Order
ARe the Fates so unkind,
As to keep me confin'd,
Debarr'd of all Free—dom and Pleasure?
For the young Charming Saint,
Ne'er regards my Complaint,
But deny's me, deny's me the Fountain of Pleasure.
I'm catch'd in the Snare,
Of a Beauty so fair,
Whom all the whole Wor—ld will admire;
At her Feet when I bow,
Not a Smile she'll allow,.
But she leaves me, she leaves me, to burn with desire
When I tell her of Love
Thar I prize none above
Fair Cynthia my A—morous Iewel;
She returns me her Frown,
Which do's quite run me down;
Oh! was ever, was ever a Creature so cruel!
When her Eyes I beheld,
With Raptures I swell'd
To gain her I u—s'd my endeavour;
But yet all was in vain,
I might sigh and complain.
She deny'd me, deny'd me the Blessing for ever.
Being clearly deny'd,
I in sorrow reply'd,
Whom Beauty a—lone hath invited,
Is rejected at last,
This my Glory doth blast,
Oh! was ever was, ever young Lover so slighted?
Thus with sorrow apprest,
And deny'd of all rest,
I started when e—'er I did slumber,
For my sorrows were more,
Then the sands on the shore,
For I tell you, I tell you, they were out of m [...].
But at length I took Heart,
And defended the Dart,
And with a good I—ace I can carry it.
And solemnly declare,
There's no Cynthia so fair,
As a Bottle, a Bottle of delicate Clare [...].
This my Ioys will restore,
I'll regard her no more,
Nor trouble my Nod—dle about her,
For my Heart is at ease,
I can love when I please,
Therefore tell her, now till her I can love [...]
Printed for P. Brooksby. J. Deacon, J. Blare, J. Back.