The Squires Grief Crown'd with Comfort:
OR,
Nectar preferr'd before Scornfull Cynthia.
To the Tune of Let the Soldiers rejoyce.
Licensed according to Order.
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ARe the Fates so unkind,
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As to keep me confin'd,
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Debarr'd of all Free------dom and Pleasure?
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For the young Charming Saint,
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Ne'er regards my Complaint,
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But deny's me, deny's me the Fountain of Pleasure.
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I'm catch'd in the Snare,
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Of a Beauty so fair,
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Whom all the whole Wor------ld will admire;
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At her Feet when I bow,
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Not a Smile she'll allow,
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But she leaves me, she leaves me, to burn with de-sire.
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When I tell her of Love,
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That I prize none above
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Fair Cynthia my A---morous Jewel;
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She returns me her Frown,
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Which do's quite run me down;
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Oh! was ever, was ever a Creature so cruel!
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When her Eyes I beheld,
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With Raptures I swell'd
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To gain her I u------s'd my endeavour;
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But yet all was in vain,
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I might sigh and complain.
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She deny'd me, deny'd me the Blessing forever.
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Being clearly deny'd,
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I in sorrow reply'd,
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Whom Beauty a------lone hath invited,
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Is rejected at last,
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This my Glory doth blast,
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Oh! was ever was, ever young Lover so slighted?
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Thus with sorrow opprest,
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And deny'd of all rest,
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I started when e------'er I did slumber,
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For my sorrows were more,
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Then the sands on the shore,
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For I tell you, I tell you, they were out of number.
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But at length I took Heart,
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And defended the Dart,
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And with a good F------ace I can carry it,
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And solemnly declare,
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There's no Cynthia so fair,
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As a Bottle, a Bottle of delicate Claret.
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This my Joys will restore,
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I'll regard her no more,
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Nor trouble my Nod---dle about her,
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For my Heart is at ease,
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I can love when I please,
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Therefore tell her, now tell her I can love without her.
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