Daphne: A Song

No longer, Daphne, I admire
The graces in thine eyes;
Continu'd coyness kills desire,
And famish'd passion dies.

Three tedious years I've sigh'd in vain,
Nor could my vows prevail;
With all the rigours of disdain,
You scorn'd my amorous tale.

When Celia cry'd, how senseless she,
That has such vows refus'd;
Had Damon giv'n his heart to me,
It had been kinder us'd.

The man's a fool that pines and dies,
Because a woman's coy:
The gentle bliss, that one denies,
A thousand will enjoy.

Such charming words, so void of art,
Surprizing rapture gave;
And tho' the maid subdu'd my heart,
It ceas'd to be a slave.

A wretch condemn'd, shall Daphne prove;
While blest without restraint,
In the sweet calendar of love
My Celia stands—a saint.