At CYNTHIA's seet I sigh'd, I pray'd

At CYNTHIA's seet I sigh'd, I pray'd, And wept; yet all the while The cruel unrelenting maid Scarcely paid me with a smile.

Such foolish timotous arts as these Wanted the power to charm; They were too innocent to please, They were too cold to warm.

Resolv'd, I rose, and softly prest The lilies of her neck; With longing eager lips I kist The roses of her cheek.

Charm'd with this boldness, she relents, And burns with equal fire; To all my wishes she consents, And crowns my fierce desire.

With heat like this PYGMALION mov'd His statue's icy charms; Thus warm'd the marble virgin lov'd, And melted in his arms.