Tixall Poetry.
183
LII.
Witty Mr Henningam's Song.
Happy and free, securely blest,
Noe beauty could disturb my rest:
My amorous hart no conquering faire
Had power to wound with new dispaire,
Till you descending on our plaines,
With forraigne force renew'd my chaines,
Where now you rule without controle,
The mighty sovraigne of my sole.
Noe beauty could disturb my rest:
My amorous hart no conquering faire
Had power to wound with new dispaire,
Till you descending on our plaines,
With forraigne force renew'd my chaines,
Where now you rule without controle,
The mighty sovraigne of my sole.
Your looks have more of conquering charmes,
Then all your native countryes armes;
Your troopes we can expell with ease,
They vanquish onely while we please;
But all the force that in us lies,
Yeilds no defence against your eyes.
They make us languish whilst in sight,
But absent, we must perish quite.
Then all your native countryes armes;
Your troopes we can expell with ease,
They vanquish onely while we please;
But all the force that in us lies,
Yeilds no defence against your eyes.
They make us languish whilst in sight,
But absent, we must perish quite.
