To stifle Passion is no easy Thing,
A Heart in Love is always on the Wing;
The bold Betrayer flutters still,
And fans the Breath prepar'd to tell:
It melts the Tongue, and tunes the Throat,
And moves the Lips to form the Note;
And when the Speech is lost,
It then sends out its Ghost,
A little Sigh,
To say we dye.
'Tis strange the Air that Cools, a Flame shou'd prove,
But wonder not, it is the Air of Love.
Yet Chloris I can make my Love look well,
And cover bleeding Wounds I can't conceal,
My Words such artful Accents break,
You think I rather act than speak:
My Sighs enliven'd thro' a Smile,
Your unsuspecting Thoughts beguile;
My Eyes are vary'd so,
You can't their Wishes know:
And I'm so gay,
You think I play.
Happy Contrivance! such as can't be priz'd,
To Live in Love, and yet to Live disguis'd.