a Pastoral

Sung by Mr. Vernon at Vauxhall Gardens

The gentle Swan with graceful pride,
Her glossy plumage laves,
And sailing down the Silver Tide,
Divides the whisp'ring waves.
The Silver tide that wandring flows,
sweet, sweet to the bird must be,
But not so sweet blithe CUPID knows,
As DELIA is to me.

A parent bird in plaintive mood,
On yonder fruit tree sung,
And still the pendent nest she view'd,
That held her callow young,
Tho' dear to her maternal heart,
The genial brood must be,
They're not so dear the thousandth part,
As DELIA is to me.

The roses that my brow surround,
Were natives of the dale,
Scarce pluck'd and in a garland bound,
Before their hue grew pale,
My vital bloom wou'd thus be froze,
If luckless torn from thee,
For what the root is to the rose,
My DELIA is to me.

Two Doves I found like new fall'n snow,
So white the beauteous pair,
The birds to DELIA i'll bestow,
They're like her bosom fair,
May they of our connubial love,
A happy omen be,
Then such fond bliss as Turtles prove,
Shall DELIA share with me.