( 6 )
Where sorrow prompts the pensive sigh,
Where grief bedew the dropping eye,
Melting in sympathy I see,
The swain design d for Love and Me.
Let sordid av'rice claim no part,
Within his tender gen'rous heart:
O be that heart from falshood free,
Devoted all to Love and Me.
O'er the MOOR to MAGGY.
AND I'll o'er the moor to Maggy,
her wit and sweetness call me,
Then to the fair I'll show my mind,
whatever may befal me.
If she loves mirth, I'll learn to sing;
or likes the Nine to follow.
I'll lay my lugs in Pindus' spring,
and invocate Apollo.
If she admire a martial mind,
I'll sheath my limbs in armour;
If to the softer dance inclin'd,
with gayest airs I'll charm her:
If she love grandeur, day and night,
I'll plot my nation's glory,
Find favour in my Prince's sight,
and shine in future story.
Beauty can wonders work with case,
where wit is corresponding ;
And bravest men know best to pease
with complaisance abounding.
