SONG. - Tune, German Spa
Shrew'd remarkers often say
Men were formed to betray;
Form'd to fascinate the fair,
Then to plunge them in despair:
Tyrants of creation made,
Prone like tyrants to invade!
Wanting what they can't enjoy,
And to love unknowing.
Feigning rapture when we're by,
Willing at our feet to die:
Vow, the smiles or frowns of fate
On important females wait.
If, unversed in their arts,
We surrender up our hearts;
Cool, they view the sacrifice,
And the maid expiring.
While my heart is yet my own,
Nor my soft affections flown;
Ev'ry passion at command --
Free my heart as free my hand;
Cool, I'll hear the tale of love,
'Till convinc'd, I may approve:
Then I'll fly to meet my swain,
Nor disguise my rapture.
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