The Libertine -or- The Libertine Destroyed

Nymphs and shepherds, come away.
In the groves let's sport and play,
For this is Flora's holiday,
Sacred to ease and happy love,
To dancing, to music and to poetry;
Your flocks may now securely rove
Whilst you express your jollity.
Nymphs and shepherds, come away.

Prepare, prepare, new Guests draw near
And on the brink of Hell appear.
Kindle fresh Flame of Sulphur there.
Assemble all ye Fiends,
Wait for the dreadful ends
Of impious Men, who far excell
All th'Inhabitants of Hell.
Let 'em come, Let 'em come,
To an Eternal dreadful Doom,
Let 'em come, Let 'em come.
In Mischiefs they have all the Damn'd out-done;
Here they shall weep, and shall unpitty'd groan,
Here they shall howl, and make Eternal moan.
By Bloud and Lust they have deserv'd so well,
That they shall feel the hottest flames of Hell.
In vain they shall here their past mischiefs bewail,
In exquisite Torments that never shall fail.
Eternal Darkness they shall find,
And them Eternal chains shall bind
To infinite pain of Sense and Mind.
Let 'em come, Let 'em come,
To an Eternal dreadful Doom,
Let 'em come, Let 'em come.

To arms, Heroick Prince, to Arms,
Glory, like Love has pow'rfull Charms;
let Glory now thy Soul ingross,
and recompence its Rivals loss:
Bid Trumpets sound, and nothing name
but Battles, Conquests, Triumphs, Fame.