Song (“Sylvia the fair, in the bloom of Fifteen”)

Sylvia the fair, in the bloom of Fifteen

Felt an innocent warmth, as she lay on the green;

She had heard of a pleasure, and something she guest

By the towzing and tumbling and touching her Breast:

She saw the men eager, but was at a loss,

What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;

By their praying and whining,

And clasping and twining,

And panting and wishing,

And sighing and kissing,

And sighing and kissing so close.

II.

Ah she cry’d, ah for a languishing Maid

In a Country of Christians to die without aid!

Not a Whig, or a Tory, or Trimmer at least,

Or a Protestant Parson or Catholick Priest,

To instruct a young Virgin that is at a loss

What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;

By their praying and whining,

And clasping and twining,

And panting and wishing,

And sighing and kissing,

And sighing and kissing so close.

III.

Cupid in Shape of a Swayn did appear,

He saw the sad wound, and in pity drew near,

Then show’d her his Arrow, and bid her not fear,

For the pain was no more than a Maiden may bear;

When the balm was infus’d, she was not at a loss

What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;

By their praying and whining,

And clasping and twining,

And panting and wishing,

And sighing and kissing,

And sighing and kissing so close.