Page:Poems on Several Occasions - Broome (1739, 2nd edition).djvu/291

Alas! should Jason with his Greeks appear,
Where should we fly? I fear, alas, I fear!
No more the Cholchian Youths, and Virgin Train,
Haunt the cool Shade, or tread in Dance the Plain:
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$But since alone;—with Sports beguile the Hours,
Come chaunt the Song, or pluck the blooming Flow'rs,
Pluck every Sweet, to deck your Virgin Bow'rs!
Then warbling soft^[1], she lifts her heav'nly Voice,
But sick with mighty Love, the Song is Noise;
She hears from every Note a Discord rise,
Till pausing, on her Tongue the Music dies;
She hates each Object, every Face offends,
In every Wish, her Soul to Jason sends;
With sharpen'd Eyes the distant Lawn explores,
To find the Object whom her Soul adores;

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