UPON a sunshine Summer’s day, | |
| When every Tree was green and gay; | |
| The Morning blusht with Phœbus ray, | |
| Just then ascending from the Sea: | |
| As Sylvia did a Hunting ride, | 5 |
| A lovely Cottage he espied; | |
| Where lovely Chloe Spinning sat, | |
| And still she turned her Wheel about. | |
| |
| Her Face a Thousand Graces crown, | |
| Her curling Hair was lovely brown; | 10 |
| Her rolling Eyes all Hearts did win, | |
| And white as Down of Swans her Skin: | |
| So taking her plain Dress appears, | |
| Her Age not passing Sixteen Years, | |
| The Swain lay sighing at her Foot, | 15 |
| Yet still she turned her Wheel about. | |
| |
| Thou sweetest of thy tender kind, | |
| Cries he, this ne’er can suit thy Mind; | |
| Such Grace attracting noble Loves, | |
| Was ne’er designed for Woods and Groves: | 20 |
| Come, come with me, to Court, my Dear, | |
| Partake my Love and Honor there; | |
| And leave this Rural sordid route, | |
| And turn no more thy Wheel about. | |
| |
| At this with some few Modest sighs, | 25 |
| She turns to him her Charming Eyes; | |
| Ah! tempt me, Sir, no more, she cries, | |
| Nor seek my Weakness to surprise: | |
| I know your Art’s to be believed, | |
| I know how Virgins are deceived; | 30 |
| Then let me thus my Life wear out, | |
| And turn my harmless Wheel about. | |
| |
| By that dear panting Breast, cries he, | |
| And yet unseen divinity; | |
| Nay, by my Soul that rests in thee, | 35 |
| I swear this cannot, must not be: | |
| Ah! cause not my eternal woe, | |
| Nor kill the Man that Loves thee so; | |
| But go with me, and ease my doubt, | |
| And turn no more thy Wheel about. | 40 |
| |
| His cunning Tongue so play’d its part, | |
| He gain’d admission to her Heart; | |
| And now she thinks it is no Sin, | |
| To take Love’s fatal poison in: | |
| But ah! too late she found her fault, | 45 |
| For he her Charms had soon forgot; | |
| And left her e’er the Year ran out, | |
| In Tears to turn her Wheel about. | |
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