The Second part of New Songs, as they are Sung at Court

by anon

The Second part of New Songs, as they are Sung at Court;
Written by a Person of quality named, D. of P.

Phillis, a New Song.

In Phillis will are all Men foolish,
 Uncertain false Conquest.
Love is her constant welcome Guest,
 And still the newest pleasest best,
Quickly she likes then leaves as soon,
 Her life on Womans a Lampoon.

Yet for the plague of Humane Race,
 This Devil has an Angels Face;
Such Youth, such sweetness in her look,
 Who can be man and not be took,
What former Love? What wit? What Art?
 Can save a poor inclining heart:

In vain a thousand times an hour,
 Reason Rebels against her Power;
In vain I rail and curse her Charms,
 One look my feeble Rage disarms;
There is Inchantment in her Eyes,
 Who sees them can no more be wise,
There is Inchantment in her Eyes,
 Who sees them can no more be wise.

A Song.

Lovely Selina, innocent and Fair;
 From all the dangerous Arts of Love,
Thus in a Melancholly Grove,
 Enjoy'd the sweetness of her privacy;
Till envious Gods designing to undo her,
 Dispatch the Swain not unlike
Unlike then to wooe her.

It was not long e’re the designed take
 A gentle Youth born to perswade,
D—d the too too easie Maid;
 Her Scrip and Garland soon she did forsake,
And rashly told the secrets of her heart,
 Which the fond Man would evermore impart,
False Coridel joy of my heart

Said she, ’tis hard to Love, Love in vain,
 To love and not be lov’d again;
And why should Love and prudence disagre,
 Pitty ye Powers that sit at ease above,
If e’re you knew what ’tis to be in Love.

A New Song of the Whiggish Poets Recantation. To the Tune of,'No Ignoramus Juries now. &c.

This is my Reformation,
And perfect Recantation,
Which shall appear,
Both far and near
through all the Land and Nation.
 No whining, nor pining,
 nor Loyalty declining
 But let the Law, keep Whigs in awe,
 And check their damn’d designing.

I writ in praise of Tony,
in short it was for Money,
But when I see their Treachery;
I’de be no more their Crony.
 No whining, &c.

I was a Noble spender,
When Tony liv’d in splender,
I us’d to write The Whigs Delight,
To me much Fame did render,
 No whining, &c.

And I was mighty handy,
In filling out the Brandy,
I’de smoak and Funk till I was drunk,
Few Whigs will go beyond me.
 No Whining, &c.

Those days Sir while they lasted,
I had Sack when I ask’t it,
when I was drunk they sent me home,
Safe in a Potters Basket.
 No Whining, &c.

When Russel was Arraigned,
A Lawyers Gown I gained;
I ask’d the Case to my disgrace,
And all my Credit stained.
 No whining, &c.

With Lawyers I conversed,
But quickly was disgraced,
I was undone and forc’t to run,
And dare not stand to Face it.
 No whining, &c.

Ambition so abounded,
And I with shame surrounded,
I with my Gown was tumbled down,
And all my Wits Confounded.
 No whining, &c.

This did despise my Glory,
A sad and dismal Story,
The Rabble I will now defie,
And turn a Loyal Tory.
 No whining, &c.

God Bless great Charles and Jemmy,
And all the whole Retinue,
With Peace and Love, down from above,
With happy days and many.
 No Whining nor pining,
 nor Loyalty declining
But let the Law keep Whigs in awe,
And check their damn’d Designing,

London Printed, and are to be Sold by, A. Chamberlain in Red-Bull Play-house Tard over against the Pound in St. John-Street.