THE HAPPY LOVER: OR,
Celia won by
Aminta's Loyalty.
A New SONG in great Request at Court.
To an Excellent New Tune: Or,
Why are my Eyes, &c▪
Licensed according to Order.
[...]
WHy are my Eyes still flow╌ing? Why do's my Heart thus trembling move?
[...]Why do I sigh when go╌ing, To see the Darling Saint I Love?
[...]Ah! she's my Heaven, and in her Eyes, the Dei╌ty, there is no Life
[...]Like what she can give, Nor any Death like taking my Leave.
II.
Tell me no more of Glo╌ry, to Courts Ambition I've resign'd,
But tell a long long Sto╌ry, of
Celia's Shape, her Face, and Mind:
Speak too of Raptures that will Life destroy, to En╌joy,
Had I a Diadem, Scepter, and Ball,
For that dear Minute I'd part with them all.
III.
Why am I not enjoy╌ing my self, delighting in thy Arms?
My painful Love destroy╌ing, with killing Pleasures from thy Charms:
Come, come, dear
Celia, now let Storms be gone, and o╌verblown,
There's no delight like thy transporting Love,
No Joy below, what e'er there's above.
IV.
Why do's my Heart thus grieve—me, as I lie panting on my Bed?
Wh
[...] do's my hopes deceive—me, when cruel Fates pronounce me dead?
Speak, speak, dear Saint, and by those conqu'ring Eyes, that—surprize:
Give, give me favour in thy sight again,
Or kill me quite to ease my pain.
Her ANSWER.
V.
HOW can I seek to co╌ver a flaming Heart o'erwhelm'd with grief?
See, see a constant Lo╌ver, thus fainting, plead for some Relief!
No, no,
Aminta, cease now to implore, sigh—no more:
Had I then Ten thousand Hearts in my Breast,
I'd part with all, to give my Love rest.
VI.
Why do's
Aminta sigh╌ing, thing I will coyly Love deface?
But can there be deny╌ing, to such a Person, such a Grace?
Ah! such becoming Boldness too is found, to—be Crown'd,
That no fair Nymph that lives upon the Plain,
Can have a Heart to give my Dear pain.
Aminta]
VII.
Who can express the joy╌ing, that my poor Heart doth leaping find?
Fly hence all heart annoy╌ing, and fatal grief, for
Celia's kind:
Come then dear
Celia, let us now enjoy,
Cel]
Ay, dear╌est, Ay:
While we have Breach, set Mortals wonder this,
Envy they may, but not spoil our Bliss.
Printed for J. Blare, at the Looking-Glass, on London Bridge.