A New collections of songs and poems by Thomas D'Urfey ...

The Spinning Wheel, a Pastoral, made at New-Hall, and Sung to the KING at Windsor.

I.

UPon a sunshine Summers day, When every Tree was green and gay, The Morning blusht with Phebus ray, Just then ascending from the Sea, As Silvio did a Hunting ride, A lovely Cottage he espy'd; Where lovely Chloe Spinning sat, And still she turn'd her Weel about.

II.

Her Face a Thousand Graces crown, Her Curling hair was lovely brown, Her Rowling Eyes ah hearts did win, And white as down of Swans her skin; So taking her plain dress appears, Her Age not passing sixteen years, The Swain lay sighing at her foot, Yet still she turn'd her Wheel about.

III.

Thou sweetest of thy tender kind, Cries he, this ne're can suit thy mind, Such Grace attracting noble Loves, Was ne're design'd for Woods and Groves▪ Come, come with me to Court my Dear, Partake my Love and Honour there; And leave this Rural sordid rout, And turn no more thy Wheel about.

IV.

At this with some few modest sighs, She turns to him her Charming Eyes; Ah! tempt me Sir no more she cries, Nor seek my weakness to surprize,

I know your Arts to be believ'd, I know how Virgins are deceiv'd; Then let me thus my Life wear out, And turn my harmless Wheel about.

V.

By that dear panting breast cries he, And yet unseen divinity; Nay by my Soul that rests in thee, I swear this cannot, must not be; Ah cause not my eternal woe, Nor kill the Man that loves thee so; But go with me and ease my doubt, And turn no more thy Wheel about.

VI.

His Cunning Tongue so play'd its part, He gain'd admission to her heart; And now she thinks it is no sin, To take Loves fatal poyson in; But ah too late she found her fault, For he her Charms had soon forgot; And left her e're the year ran out, In tears to turn her Wheel about.