A Cantata

RECITATIVE

Sylvia, the most contented of her kind,
Remain'd in joyless widowhood resign'd:
In vain to gain her ev'ry shepherd strove,
Each passion ebb'd, but grief, which drowned love.

AIR .

Away, she cry'd, ye swains, be mute,
Nor with your odious fruitless suit
My loyal thoughts controul;
My grief on Resolution's rock
Is built, nor can Temptation shock
The purpose of my soul.
Tho' blithe Content with jocund air
May ballance comfort against care,
And make me life sustain;
Yet ev'ry joy has wing'd its flight,
Except that pensive dear delight,
That takes its rise from pain.

RECITATIVE .

She said: — A youth approach'd of manly grace,
A son of Mars and of th' Hibernian race: —
In flow'ry rhetorick he no time employ'd,
He came, — he woo'd, — he wedded and enjoy'd.

AIR .

Dido thus of old protested,
Ne'er to know a second flame;
But alas! she found she jested,
When the stately Trojan came.

Nature a disguise may borrow,
Yet this maxim true will prove;
Spite of pride, and spite of sorrow,
She that has an heart must love.

What on earth is so enchanting,
As beauty weeping on her weeds?
Thro' flowing eyes on bosom panting
What a rapturous ray proceeds?

Since from death there's no returning,
When th' old lover bids adieu,
All the pomp and farce of mourning
Are but signals for a new.