The Enchanted LOVER,
Or, Celia Triumphant.
Being a most pleasant new Court Song.
Conquored by love enchanted Strephon sings,
Whilst the loves god his flames fans with his wings,
And makes him Celia praise unto the Skies,
Beauty and Celia now are all he cryes,
Transported by his passion and her eyes,
Thus Amorous Youth are caught in Cupids net,
Which the enchanting fair Doves daily set.
To a pleasant new Playhouse Tune.
|
AH! how pleasant are the charms of Love,
|
which like Streams are alwaies flowing
|
Ah! how pleasant are the Charms of Love,
|
which like Streams are alwaies flowing,
|
So my passion[]s still a g[r]owing,
|
nothing but my Celias eyes can move,
|
So my passions still a growing,
|
perfect and immortall as the joyes above.
|
When Celia did my heart surprize,
|
every Siniew felt a pleasure,
|
Each kind look from her oblieging eye
|
filld my heart with endless Treasure:Love, O Love, is the only treasure,
|
Joy and Blessing from the Grave and Wise,
|
Give me Love, and Life, and Pleasure,
|
I shall never end, what the World enjoys.
|
Ah! how ravishing is the delight
|
how transporting is the pleasure,
|
And what are the Charms that do invite
|
when each smiles a boundless treasure,
|
That exceeds the Indian Ocean,
|
or all the Riches that the World can give,
|
Her eyes sparkle in the motion
|
like the Heavnly fires that do for ever live.
|
Oh still in the Groves I sing her praise
|
whilst the Birds the same returning,
|
Loudly warble forth fair Celias lays,
|
and the Lark sings every morning,
|
Grateful Tunes of sweetest number,
|
for to raise my Celia from her ease,
|
So to shake off her soft slumber,
|
and all the gentle fancies that do her seize.
|
Ah how like the Snow are Celias Breasts
|
which do charm with pleasant panting,
|
There the god of love his head does rest,
|
nor can sleep those pillows wanting,
|
Whilst her breath the Air perfuming.
|
Balm forth from her Coral Lips does flow
|
Which like Spices when theyr blooming,
|
round about the world fragrant sweets do throw
|
Her fair Tresses like Sun-beams do shine
|
with which amorous Winds still playing,
|
Make her for to look far more divine,
|
whilst devotion I am paying
|
And to pleasures am aspiring
|
as theres nothing more has power to move,
|
Nor on Earth thats worth desiring,
|
is there ought I can compare with Celias love
|
Ah my Celia pride of all her Sex,
|
beautys boast and chiefest treasure,
|
To whom Venus does all things anex,
|
to compleat her all of pleasure,
|
That the joyes above resembled,
|
in a mortal once again doth dwell,
|
Where all vertues are assembled
|
perfect in themselves & that all else excell.
|
Which the world beside has power to give,
|
Oh my Celia fair and charming,
|
By whose smiles alone I live
|
whose eyes like the Sun are warming,
|
But when in my Arms embracing
|
Oh then let my silence speak the joy,
|
For tis far beyond expressing,
|
sure such blessed transports never yet could cloy.
|
All upon each pleasant Tree her name
|
in cool shades I still am carving,
|
That for evermore may live her Fame,
|
though far less than shes deserving,
|
Whilest the Nymphs they do sit singing,
|
and the pleasant Roses on her shed,
|
Endless joys are ever springing,
|
& a thousand blessings are around her spread.
|
Each Shepherd does gaze with dazled eyes,
|
to see her face like Sun arising,
|
Cast a bright Reflection on the Skies
|
or as a Comet thats surprizing
|
Causes wonder, as she passes
|
all the Woods and Groves resound her praise
|
Chaunted forth by Nymph-like Lasses,
|
who for evermore unto her yield the Bayes.
|
Then let Celia ever happy be,
|
Ay thrice happy in enjoying,
|
And to love for ever be she free
|
to loves power theres no denying,
|
Then let no one envy this my Treasure
|
in the which I still content do find;
|
Endless joyes and endless pleasure
|
which can never fade whilst Celia proveth kind.
|
|
|
|
|
|