TO
A
Young
Gentleman
in
Love
.
A
TALE
.
From
publick
Noise
and
factious
Strife
,
From
all
the
busie
Ills
of
Life
,
Take
me
,
My
Celia
,
to
Thy
Breast
;
And
lull
my
wearied
Soul
to
Rest
:
For
ever
,
in
this
humble
Cell
,
Let
Thee
and
I
,
my
Fair
One
,
dwell
;
None
enter
else
,
but
Love
—
and
He
Shall
bar
the
Door
,
and
keep
the
Key
.
To
painted
Roofs
,
and
shining
Spires
(
Uneasie
Seats
of
high
Desires
)
Let
the
unthinking
Many
croud
,
That
dare
be
Covetous
and
Proud
:
In
golden
Bondage
let
Them
wait
,
And
barter
Happiness
for
State
:
But
Oh
!
My
Celia
,
when
Thy
Swain
Desires
to
see
a
Court
again
;
May
Heav'n
around
This
destin'd
Head
The
choicest
of
it's
Curses
shed
:
To
sum
up
all
the
Rage
of
Fate
,
In
the
Two
Things
I
dread
and
hate
;
May'st
Thou
be
False
,
and
I
be
Great
.
Thus
,
on
his
Celia's
panting
Breast
,
Fond
Celadon
his
Soul
exprest
;
While
with
Delight
the
lovely
Maid
Receiv'd
the
Vows
,
She
thus
repaid
:
Hope
of
my
Age
,
Joy
of
my
Youth
,
Blest
Miracle
of
Love
and
Truth
!
All
that
cou'd
e'er
be
counted
Mine
,
My
Love
and
Life
long
since
are
Thine
:
A
real
Joy
I
never
knew
;
'Till
I
believ'd
Thy
Passion
true
:
A
real
Grief
I
ne'er
can
find
;
'Till
Thou
prov'st
Perjur'd
or
Unkind
.
Contempt
,
and
Poverty
,
and
Care
,
All
we
abhor
,
and
all
we
fear
,
Blest
with
Thy
Presence
,
I
can
bear
.
Thro'
Waters
,
and
thro'
Flames
I'll
go
,
Suff'rer
and
Solace
of
Thy
Woe
:
Trace
Me
some
yet
unheard-of
Way
,
That
I
Thy
Ardour
may
repay
;
And
make
My
constant
Passion
known
,
By
more
than
Woman
yet
has
done
.
Had
I
a
Wish
that
did
not
bear
The
Stamp
and
Image
of
my
Dear
;
I'd
pierce
my
Heart
thro'
ev'ry
Vein
,
And
Die
to
let
it
out
again
.
No
:
Venus
shall
my
Witness
be
,
(
If
Venus
ever
lov'd
like
Me
)
That
for
one
Hour
I
wou'd
not
quit
My
Shepherd's
Arms
,
and
this
Retreat
,
To
be
the
Persian
Monarch's
Bride
,
Part'ner
of
all
his
Pow'r
and
Pride
;
Or
Rule
in
Regal
State
above
,
Mother
of
Gods
,
and
Wife
of
Jove
.
O
happy
these
of
Human
Race
!
But
soon
,
alas
!
our
Pleasures
pass
.
He
thank'd
her
on
his
bended
Knee
;
Then
drank
a
Quart
of
Milk
and
Tea
;
And
leaving
her
ador'd
Embrace
,
Hasten'd
to
Court
,
to
beg
a
Place
.
While
She
,
his
Absence
to
bemoan
,
The
very
Moment
He
was
gone
,
Call'd
Thyrsis
from
beneath
the
Bed
;
Where
all
this
time
He
had
been
hid
.
MORAL
.
While
Men
have
these
Ambitious
Fancies
;
And
wanton
Wenches
read
Romances
;
Our
Sex
will
—
What
?
Out
with
it
.
Lye
;
And
Their's
in
equal
Strains
reply
.
The
Moral
of
the
Tale
I
sing
(
A
Posy
for
a
Wedding
Ring
)
In
this
short
Verse
will
be
confin'd
:
Love
is
a
Jest
;
and
Vows
are
Wind
.