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SONGS.
SONG.
Love is by Fancy led about,
From hope to fear, from joy to doubt;
Whom we now an angel call,
Divinely grac’d in ev’ry feature,
Straight ’s a deform’d, a perjur’d creature.5
Love and hate are fancy all.
’T is but as Fancy ſhall preſent
Objects of grief or of content,
That the lover ’s bleſs’d or dies.
Viſions of mighty pain or pleaſure,10
Imagin’d want, imagin’d treaſure,
All in pow’rful Fancy lies.12
SONG. TO CLARINDA.
In vain a thouſand ſlaves have try’d
To overcome Clarinda’s pride:
Pity pleading,
Love perſuading,
When her icy heart is thaw’d5
Honour chides, and ſtraight ſhe ’s aw’d.
