SONG CCXLV. The WOUNDED MAID

Gentle Love, to paint my Lover Let thy Pencil be thy Dart, Let thy Pencil be thy Dart,; Ev'ry killing Grace discover Which is glowing in my Heart. Which is glowing in my Heart.

Be his lovely Eyes defining: But 'tis fatal to approach, But 'tis &c. Where ten thousand Charms are shining; I, alas, have gaz'd too much. I, alas, &c.

Be thy Pencil now descending; But descend with tender Care, But descend, &c. Lest the new born Smiles offending, Which are ever springing there. Which are, &c.

Gently glide o'er ev'ry Feature, With bewitching Softness form'd, With bewitching, &c. In his Composinon, Nature Was by Love and Bacchus warm'd, Was by Love, &c.

Touch his Lips, design'd for pressing, Where thy own fond Mother's lies, Where thy, &c. Everlasting Love expressing From his Mouth and from his Eyes. From his, &c.

Now his Shape and Air surveying, How I chide my artless Song! How I chide, &c. I my Fondness am betraying, And have done his Beauties wrong. And have, &c.

Oh! how ill I am performing, Tho' affilted by thy Dart, Tho' affilted by thy Dart,! Florio's Picture is more charming, It has painted in my Heart. It has painted in my Heart.