Classic Poem

A BALLAD

I.

PHYLLIDA , that lov'd to dream
In the grove, or by the stream;
Sigh'd on velvet pillow.
What, alas! should fill her head
But a fountain or a mead,
Water and a willow?

II.

Love in citys never dwells.
He delights in rural cells
Which sweet wood-bine covers.
What are your Assemblys then?
There, 'tis true, we see more men;
But much fewer lovers.

III.

Oh, how chang'd the prospect grows!
Flocks and herds to Fops and Beaus,
Coxcombs without number!
Moon and stars that shone so bright,
To the torch and waxen light,
And whole nights at Ombre .

IV.

Pleasant as it is, to hear
Scandal tickling in our ear,
Ev'n of our own mothers;
In the chit-chat of the day,
To us is pay'd, when we're away,
What we lent to others.

V.

Though the fav'rite Toast I reign;
Wine, they say, that prompts the vain,
Heightens defamation.
Must I live 'twixt spite and fear,
Ev'ry day grow handsomer,
And lose my reputation?

VI.

Thus the Fair to sighs gave way,
Her empty purse beside her lay.
Nymph, ah cease thy sorrow.
Though curst fortune frown to-night;
This odious town can give delight
If you win to-morrow.