Part of Lyric Harmony
Behold the sweet Flow'rs around
with all th ebright Beauties they wear,
Yet none on the Plain can be found,
so lovely as Caelia is fair.
Ye warblers come raise your sweet Throats
no longer in silence remain.
O lend a fond Lover your Notes to soften,
To soften my Caelia's disdain.
Oft' Times yon' Flowery Vale,
I breath my Complaints in a Song;
Fair Flora attends the soft Tale,
And [...] the Borders along.
But Caelia, whose Breath might perfume,
The Bosom of Flora in May,
Still browning pronounces my Doom,
Regardless of all I can.