Charming AMINTAS: OR, The Yielding VIRGIN.
To a Pleasant New Tune.
This may be Printed.
[...] WHen first Amintas su'd for a Kiss,
[...] my innocent Heart was tender;
[...] That though I push'd him away from the bliss,
[...] my Eyes declar'd my Heart was won:
[...] I fain an awfull kindness wou'd use,
[...] before I the Fort did surrender:
[...] But Love would suffer no more such abuse,
[...] and soon (alas) my Cheats was known:
[...] He'd sit all day, and laugh and play,
[...] a thousand pretty things he'd say:
[...] My hand he'd squeeze, and press my knees,
[...] till further on he got by degrees.
My heart just like a Vessel at Sea,
Wou'd toss when Amintas was near me;
But ah! so cunning a Pilot was he,
Through doubts and fears he'd still sail on,
I thought in him no danger cou'd be,
So wisely he knew how to Steer me,
And soon alas! was brought to agree,
To tafie of Ioys before unknown:
Well might he boast, his pains not lost,
For soon he sound the Golden Coast;
Enjoy'd the Oar, and toucht the shore,
Where never Merchant went before.
Soft Blushes always came in my Face,
When ever Amintas drew near me;
He told me Roses lookt with such grace,
And pretty fair dazies when Summer comes on
He prest me, kist me with so much love,
I could not deny him the Blessing:
And with such sweet Words my heart he did move
That soon I yielded to him alone.
So Violets by the Sun are won,
To spread their Leaves and be undone;
The heat does warm and sweetly charm,
And makes young Maids forget all the harm.
A thousand times that he would be true,
Amintas protested unto me;
He then his soft Kisses again wou'd renew,
So Balmy and sweet, that I soon was we
With sighs and vows he rais'd such a fire,
That made my young heart to surrender:
And then by his Art he still blew it up higher,
Till Maiden-doubts and fears were gone.
None could resist when ever he lift,
So gently soft and sweet he kist,
His Head he'd rest upon my Breast,
And those soft tender Pillows he be prest,
The Marble stone will melt by degrees,
If often soft Dew doth drop on it;
Amintas he any Maiden might please,
To yield to his Arms, and like me to be wo
Could any resist such gentle soft charms,
Such vows, such sighs, and such kisses?
Could any repine at so sweet a Youths arms:
She sure must yield, or else be a Drone.
We will not lose no time in Rhime,
But say that Maidens in their prime:
Should for their Head take Tom or Ned,
For Flint will break on Feather-Bed.
Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye-corner.