Grog/On a Bank of Flowers

by Anonymous

ON A BANK OF FLOWERS.

On a bank of flowers in a summer's day,
Inviting and undress'd
In her bloom of years, bright Celia lay,
With love and sleep oppress'd;
When a youthful swain, with admiring eyes
Wished he durst the fair maid surprise,
With a fa, la, la, &c.
But he fear'd approaching spies.

As he gazed, a gentle breeze arose,
That fann'd her robes aside;
And the sleeping nymph did charms disclose
Which, waking, she would hide.
Then his breath grew short, and his pulse beat high,
He long'd to touch what he chanc'd to spy,
With a fa, la, la, &c.
But durst not yet draw nigh.

All amazed he stood, with her beauties fir'd,
And bless'd the courteous wind;
Then in whispers sigh'd, and the gods desir'd,
That Celia might be kind.
Then, with hope grown bold, he advanc'd amain:
But she laugh'd aloud in a dream, and again,
With a fa, la, la, &c.
Repelled the tim'rous swain.

Yet, when once desire has enflamed the soul,
All modest doubts withdraw,
And the god of love does each fear controul
That would the lover awe.
Shall a prize like this, says the vent'rous boy,
Escape, and I not the means employ,
With a fa, la, la, &c.
To seize proffer'd joy?

Here the glowing youth, to relieve his pain,
The slumb'ring maid caress'd,
And with tremb'ling hands (oh, the simple swain,)
Her glowing bosom press'd
Then the virgin wak'd and affrighted flew,
Yet look'd as wishing he would pursue,
With a fa, la, la, &c.
But Damon miss'd his cue.

Now repenting that he had let her fly,
Himself he thus accus,d:
What a dull and stupid thing was I,
That such a chance abus'd!
To my shame 'twill now on the plains be said,
Damon a virgin asleep betray'd,
With a fa, la, la, &c.
Yet let her go a maid.

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