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A Song, Sung by a Fop newly come from France.
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[Music ]
AH! Phillis why are you less tender,
To my despairing Amore!
Your Heart you have promis'd to tender,
Do not deny the Retour:
My Passion I cannot defender,
No, no Torments encrease tous les Jour.
To forget your kind Slave is cruelle,
Can you expect my Devoir;
Since Phillis is grown infidelle,
And wounds me at every Revoir!
Those Eyes which were once agreeable,
Now, now are Fountains of black Des espoire.
Adieu to my false Esperance,
Adieu les Plaisirs des beaux Jours;
My Phillis appears at distance,
And slights my unfeigned Efforts:
To return to her Vows impossible,
No, no adieu to the Cheats of Amours.
