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TO ALL YOU LADIES
The King with wonder and surprise Will swear the seas grow bold,
Because the tides will higher rise, Than e'er they did of old ;
But let him know it is our tears
Brings floods of grief to Whitehall-stairs.
Should foggy Opdam chance to know
Our sad and dismal story, The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,
And quit their fort at Goree, For what resistance can they find From men who've left their hearts behind ?
Let wind and weather do its worst,
Be you to us but kind, Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,
No sorrow we shall find ; Tis then no matter how things go, Or who's our friend, or who's our foe.
To pass our tedious hours away,
We throw a merry main, Or else at serious ombre play,
But why should we in vain Each other's ruin thus pursue ? We were undone when we left you !
But now our fears tempestuous grow
And cast our hopes away, Whilst you, regardless of our woe,
Sit careless at a play,— Perhaps permit some happier man To kiss your hand or flirt your fan.
When any mournful tune you hear,
That dies in every note, As if it sighed with each man's care,
For being so remote, Think then how often love we've made To you, when all those tunes were played.
In justice you cannot refuse
To think of our distress, When we for hopes of honour lose
Our certain happiness; |
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