Acis and Galatea
Air. Love in her eyes sits playing, And sheds delicious death; Love on her lips is straying, And warbling in her breath; Love on her breast sits panting, And swells with soft desire; Nor grace nor charm is wanting To set the heart on fire. Air. O ruddier than the cherry! O sweeter than the berry! O Nymph more bright Than moonshine night, Like kidlings blithe and merry! Ripe as the melting cluster! No lily has such lustre; Yet hard to tame As raging flame, And fierce as storms that bluster.
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