On a Lady's Singing, and Playing Upon the Harpsichord

" Say, Zephyr, what musick enchants the gay plains?
" As soft and as sweet as the nightingale's strains;
" My heart it goes pitapatee, with a bound,
" And gently transported beats time to the sound.

" O say, is it Sappho that touches the strings?
" And some song of the Syren's you bear on your wings?"
Said Zephyr, and whisper'd distinctly the lays,
" 'Tis Belinda that sings, and Belinda that plays."

Ah! swains, if you value your freedom, beware,
You hear her sweet voice, and I know that she's fair;
She's fair and inconstant; and thus with her art,
She will ravish your ears to inveigle your heart.
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