SONG. H, conceal that charming Creature OH From my wondring, wishing Eyes! Ev'ry Motion, ev'ry Feature Does fome ravish'd Heart furprize; But oh, I fighing, fighing, fee The happy Swain! she ne'er can be False to him, or kind to me. Yet, if I could humbly show her, Ah! how wretched I remain ; 'Tis not, fure, a Thing below her, Still to pity fo much Pain. The The Gods fome Pleasure, Pleasure take, Happy as themselves to make Those who suffer for their Sake. Since your Hand alone was giv'n To a Wretch not worth your Care; Like fome Angel fent from Heav'n, Come and raise me from Despair! Your Heart I cannot, cannot miss, And I defire no other Bliss; Let all the World befides be His. DE Yet while I languish so, And on thee vainly call; Take heed, fair Caufe of all my Woe, What Fate may thee befall. Ungrateful, Ungrateful, cruel Faults Suit not thy gentle Sex ; Hereafter, how will guilty Thoughts Thy tender Conscience vex! When welcome Death hall bring Relief to wretched me, My Soul enlarg'd, and once on Wing, In hafte will fly to thee. When in thy lonely Bed, My Ghost its Moan fhall make, With faddeft Signs that I am dead, |