Volume 5 — A Song. Sett by Mr. Henry Purcell.
Reading edition
[Listen]
IN Chloris all soft Charms agree, Enchanting Humour pow’rful Wit; Beauty from Affectation free, And for Eternal Empire fit: Where-e’er she goes, Love waits her Eyes, The Women Envy, Men adore; Tho’ did she less the Triumph Prize, She wou’d deserve the Conquest more. But Vanity so much prevails, She begs what else none can deny her; And with inviting treach’rous Smiles Gives hopes which ev’n prevent desire: Reaches at every trifling Heart, Grows warm with ev’ry glimm’ring Flame: And common Prey so deads her Dart, It scarce can wound a noble Game. I could lye Ages at her Feet, Adore her careless of my Pain; With tender Vows her Rigour meet, Despair, love on, and not complain: My Passion from all change secur’d, Favours may rise, no Frown controuls; I any Torment can endure, But hoping with a crowd of Fools.
