To Cloe

Kind Nature has Cloe express'd,
To strike us with Joy and Surprize;
Each Grace in her Form is confess'd,
And Cupids exult in her Eyes.

Her Form so erect, fair, and tall,
Such winning Attraction displays;
Her Mind, the best Beauty of all,
My Wish and Affections still raise.

The Nightingale chimes to her Voice,
The Syrens would yield to her Song;
In Echos the Vallies rejoice,
Her Musick inchants the gay Throng.

Lo! Summer has spangl'd the Vales,
And Roses their Purple disclose,
The Vi'lets enrich the soft Gales,
And Harmony heightens all those.

Since Beauty and Rapture agree,
To ravish both Hearing and Sight,
O come, my deac Cloe, with me,
And crown the gay Scene with Delight.

Come with me, my Nymph, to yon Grove,
Where the Thrush and the Linnet resort,
Whose Bowers invite us to Love
Where Cupids still revel and sport.

In Bliss we'll enjoy the long Day,
To mutual Endearments resign'd,
My Head on thy Bosom I'll lay,
And pity the rest of Mankind.