A Cantata

R ECITATIVE

The sun was in his highest strength
When Chloe grac'd the earth;
The day was at its utmost length,
No night at Chloe's birth.

A RIA

The meads were mown, white roses blown,
All nature did conspire
To welcome here the shining lass,
The beauty of whose charming face
Sets all mankind on fire.

Where'er she moves ten thousand loves
Fan our souls with fond desire;
We view with pleasure and amaze,
But Ah! so surely as we gaze,
So surely we expire.

One fault she had some time ago,
Alas! she would not hear;
But now she's all perfection grown,
Despairing swains may make their moan,
And hope she'll lend an ear.

Th'Arabian bird a Phoenix gives,
And Venus in her Cupid lives,
And both in Chloe's eyes.
Nothing so rare but yields its like,
Or else it never dies.
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