King Arthur or The British Worthy

 For love ev'ry creature is formed by his nature:
 No joys are above the pleasures of love.

How blest are shepherds, how happy their lasses,
While drums and trumpets are sounding alarms.
Over our lowly sheds all the storm passes, 
And when we die 'tis in each others arms,
All the day on our herds and flocks employing,
All the night on our flutes and in enjoying.

Bright nymphs of Britain with graces attended,
Let not your days without pleasure expire.
Honour's but empty, and when youth is ended,
All men will praise you but none will desire.
Let not youth fly away without contenting,
Age will come time enough for your repenting.

Come if you dare, our trumpets sound.
Come if you dare, the foes rebound.
We come, says the double beat of the thund'ring drum.

Now they change on amain,
Now they rally again;
The Gods from above the mad labor behold,
And pity mankind that will perish for gold,

The fainting Saxons quit the ground,
The trumpets languish in the sound.
They fly! Victoria! the bold Britons cry.

Now the victory's won,
To plunder we run;
We return to our lasses, like fortunate traders.
Triumphant with spoils of our vanquish'd invaders.

Shepherd, shepherd, leave decoying:
Pipes are sweet on summer's day,
But a little after toying,
Women have the shot to pay.
Here are marriage-vows for signing:
Set their marks that cannot write,
After that, without repining,
Play, and welcome, day and night.

What power art thou, who from below
Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow
From beds of everlasting snow?
See'st thou not how stiff and wondrous old
Far unfit to bear the bitter cold,
I can scarcely move or draw my breath?
Let me, let me freeze again to death.

You say 'tis Love creates the pain,
Of which so sadly you complain;
And yet would fain engage my Heart,
In that uneasy cruel part;
But how alas, think you that I
Can bear the wounds of which you die?
'Tis not my passion makes my care,
But your indifference gives despair:
The lusty Sun begets no Spring,
Till gentle show'rs assistance bring,
So love that scorches and destroys,
Till kindness aids can cause no joy.
Love has a thousand ways to please,
But more to rob us of our ease;
For waking nights and carefull days,
from hours of pleasures he repays;
But absence soon, or jealous fears,
O'er flows the joys with floods of tears.
But one soft moment makes amends
For all the torment that attends.
Let us Love, and to happiness hast.
Age and wisdom comes too fast;
Youth for loving was design'd.
You be constant, I'll be kind.
I'll be constant, I'll be kind.
Heav'n can give no greater blessing
Than faithful Love, and Kind possessing.

Fairest isle, all isles excelling,
Seat of pleasure and of love
Venus here will choose her dwelling,
And forsake her Cyprian grove.
Cupid from his fav'rite nation
Care and envy will remove;
Jealousy, that poisons passion,
And despair, that dies for love.

Gentle murmurs, sweet complaining,
Sighs that blow the fire of love
Soft repulses, kind disdaining,
Shall be all the pains you prove.
Ev'ry swain shall pay his duty,
Grateful ev'ry nymph shall prove;
And as these excel in beauty,
Those shall be renown'd for love.