Original - Duke Divinity School

Next day, or ere the Sun was seen,
Or any Gate unbarr’d;
At Her’s, upon th’ adjoining Green,
From Ranks, with waving Flags between,
Were soften’d Trumpets heard.
The Noon does following Treats provide,
In the Pavilion’s Shade;
The Neighbourhood, and all beside,
That will attend the amorous Pride,
Are welcom’d with the Maid.
Poor Alcidor! Thy Hopes are crost!
Go perish on the Ground;
Thy Sighs by stronger Notes are tost,
Drove back, or in the Passage lost;
Rich Wines thy Tears have drown’d.
In Women’s Hearts, the softest things
Which Nature could devise,
Are yet some harsh, and jarring Strings,
That, when loud Fame, or Profit rings,
Will answer to the Noise.
Poor Alcidor! go Fight or Die!
Let thy fond Notions cease:
Man was not made in Shades to lie,
Or his full Bliss, at ease, enjoy,
To Live, or Love in peace!
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