Solicitation

Young Thyrsis, the pride of the plain, Cleora had often address'd, Truth and honour were found in the swain And the nymph was the brightest confest, Yet still to his passion unkind, Unheeded she heard his fond tale, With the pangs of despair in his mind, He sorrowful sigh'd thro' the vale, He sorrowful sigh'd thro' the vale.

Impell'd by the fondest regard, He sought the dear maid once again, From his constancy hop'd a reward For there ne'er was a more faithful swain; With her flocks as she stray'd in the grove, The language of love he essay'd; He begg'd she'd his passion approve, And a smile beam'd at last from the maid: And a smile, &c.

O smile my Cleora again, The cares of my bosom relieve, Nor treat me with frowns or disdain, For your Thyrsis will never deceive; More soften'd Cleora replied, I pity the pangs in your breast, Complain then no more of my pride, And Thyrsis may hope for the best. And Thyrsis, &c.