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〈♫〉〈♫〉 HOw oft did Love assault young Strephon's Breast, yet in his Heart, in his Heart cou'd gain no In—te—rest? When thousand, thousand, thou—sand Beauties took the Field, when thousand Beau—ties took the Field, and made as ma—ny Lo—vers yield: He saw the Light, but selt no heat; he saw the Light, but felt no heat, with a—ll their Lambent Fire be—set. This great Success, this great Success, made the bold Youth despise, all the Charms, all the
Charms, the Cha—rms, that cou'd from Beau—ty a—rise. Love highly in—cens'd in Am—bush does lye, to tame the proud Rebel that his Pow'r does de—ny; Love highly in—cens'd in Ambush does lye, to tame the proud Rebel that his Pow'r does de—ny, to tame the proud Rebel that his Pow'r does deny. And now the fa—tal Hour is come, wherein the Swain receives his Doom: He sees, he burns, he sighs, he dyes, slain by his Ce—lia's darting Eyes; for he that in great
War prevails, oft in sin—gle Du-el fails. Happy is Strephon in this his true Passion, the Nymph on his Pain at length had compassion: In her soft Charms he en- joys such a Treasure, there's nothing that's Mortal can e—qual his Pleasure; in her soft Charms he en—joys such a Treasure, there's nothing that's Mortal can equal his Pleasure,