The Sweetness from thy Eyes he took, The Charming Dimples from thy Mouth, That wonderous Softness when you spoke; And all thy Everlasting Youth. VI. Thy bow, thy Quiver, and thy Darts: Even of thy Painted Wing has rifled thee, To bear him from his Conquer’d broken Hearts, To the next Fair and Yeilding She. _Love Reveng’d_, A Song. I. _Celinda_ who did Love Disdain, For whom had languisht many a Swain; Leading her Bleating Flock to drink, She spy’d upon the Rivers Brink A Youth, whose Eyes did well declare, How much he lov’d, but lov’d not her. II. At first she Laught, but gaz’d the while, And soon she lessen’d to a Smile; Thence to Surprize and Wonder came, Her Breast to heave, her Heart to flame: Then cry’d she out, Now, now I prove, Thou art a God, Almighty Love. III. She would have spoke, but shame deny’d, And bid her first consult her Pride; But soon she found that Aid was gone; For Love alas had left her none: Oh how she burns, but ‘tis too late, For in her Eyes she reads her Fate. SONG. _To a New_ Scotch _Tune._ I. _Young Jemmy_ was a Lad, Of Royal Birth and Breeding, With ev’ry Beauty Clad: And ev’ry Grace Exceeding; A face and shape so wondrous fine, So Charming ev’ry part: That every Lass upon the Green: For _Jemmy_ had a Heart. II. In _Jemmy’s_ Powerful Eyes, Young Gods of Love are playing, And on his Face there lies A Thousand Smiles betraying. But Oh he dances with a Grace, None like him e’er was seen; No God that ever fancy’d was, Has so Divine a Miene. III. To _Jemmy_ ev’ry Swaine Did lowly doff his Bonnet; And every Nymph would strain, To praise him in her Sonnet: The Pride of all the Youths he was, The Glory of the Groves, The Joy of ev’ry tender Lass: The Theam of all our Loves. IV. But Oh Unlucky Fate, A Curse upon Ambition: The Busie Fopps of State Have ruin’d his Condition. For Glittering Hopes he’as left the Shade, His Peaceful Hours are gone: By flattering Knaves and Fools betray’d, Poor _Jemmy_ is undone. _The Cabal at_ Nickey Nackeys. I. A _Pox_ of the States-man that’s witty, Who watches and Plots all the Sleepless Night: For Seditious Harangues, to the Whiggs of the City; And Maliciously turns a Traytor in Spight. Let him Wear and Torment his lean Carrion: To bring his Sham-Plots about, Till at last King Bishop and Barron, For the Publick _Good_ he have quite rooted out.