The Invitation

Thy youthful charms, bright Maid, inspire, And grace my fav'rite theme, Whose person kindles soft desire; Whose mind secures esteem. O! hear me then, my flame avow, And fill my breast with joy, A flame, which taught by time to grow, No time can e'er destroy: My tender suit with smiles approve, And share the sweets of mutual love.

No false delusive arts I use, As do the courtly throng, 'Tis Nature kindly aids my muse, And dictates to my song; Would'st thou, she cries, true bliss ensure, Make haste the town to leave, Where Pleasure's gilded baits allure, And charm but to deceive: With me, thro' flow'ry medows rove, And share the sweets of mutual love.

Forsake, where all upright appear, Yet most perfidious prove, Where knaves the mask of friendship wear, Or feign the voice of love. So shall thy inexperienc'd years, No source of sorrow know; Nor shed Affliction's homefelt tears, Nor weep for others woe: Haste then, from faithless crowds remove, And share the sweets of mutual love.

Ah! would my Fair this plan pursue, How happy should I be, Since all that brings content to you, Is ecstacy to me. Yet e'er the public scenes you quit, Increase my fond delight, And deign your humble swain t' admit The partner of your flight; And while the varying seasons move, To share the sweets of mutual love,

When Autumn yields her ripen'd corn, Or Winter dark'ning low'rs, With tend'rest care, I'll sooth thy morn, And cheer thy ev'ning hours: Again, when smiling Spring returns, We'll breath the vernal air, And still, when Summer sultry burns, To woodland walks repair: There seek Retirement's shelter'd grove, And share the sweets of mutual love.

What tho' no costly arts display, The splendour of a court, Yet rich in Nature's neat array, We'll join the rural sport; Where, seated on the verdant grass, From daily labour freed, Each shepherd wooes his favourite lass, And tunes his oaten reed, Remarks the tender turtle dove, And sings the sweets of mutual love.

No revels there the night consume, Which oft the Fair undo, Make beauty lose its lovely bloom, And often virtue too; There, free from discontent and strife, Each undesigning youth Strives to relieve the cares of life, With constancy and truth; Haste then, the fleeting hours improve, And share the sweets of mutual love.

For can that destiny be just, That innocence and health Be yielded up a prey to lust, Or sacrifice to wealth? Or shall the mind, where honour dwelt, Deplore that honour gone, Which still for others pitying felt, Itself unpitied mourn? Forbid it, all ye pow'rs above, And grant her ever mutual love!