The conquering Virgin: OR, The Maiden Triumph;  
To an excellent new Air.  

This may be Printed,  
R. P.   

I.  
WE all to Conquering Beauty bow,  
it's pleasing Powers admire;  
But I ne'er saw a Face till now,  
that like yours could inspire;  
Now I may say I met with one,  
amazes all Mankind;  
And like Men gazing on the Sun,  
with too much light am blind.   

II.  
Soft as the tender moving sighs,  
when longing Lovers meet;  
Like the Divining Prophet's Wife,  
and like blown Roses sweet;  
Majestic gay, reserved yet free  
each happy Night a Bride;  
A Mean like awful Majesty,  
and yet no spark of Pride.   

III.  
The Patriarch to gain a Wife  
chaste, beautiful and young;  
Served fourteen years a painful life,  
and never thought it long;  
And were I to reward such Care,  
and life so long would stay,  
Not fourteen, but four hundred years,  
and think it as one day.   

IV.  
Thy Virgin-Innocence does move  
Diana's beauteous Train;  
And make them both admire and Love  
like some resistless swain:  
I had resolved no charming Art  
should e'er my mind subdue,  
But Strephon's tender yielding Heart,  
owns Cupid's Power in you.   

V.  
As when the Indian first does spy  
the dawning of the Fight  
It Captivates his wondering Eye  
so charming is the sight,  
But as the morning grows more bright,  
his pleasure still increase,  
Until the sullen sable night,  
does cause those Joys to cease.   

VI  
Let us upon soft silken Flowers  
enjoy our bloom and prime,  
And sweetly pass away those hours,  
that glide away with Time;  
The lightfoot minutes will not stay,  
and Lovers hours are few;  
My fairest then do not delay,  
but give great Love his Due.   

VII.  
Thy Blushes and each charming Grace,  
that can so sweetly please,  
And all the Beauties of thy Face  
were made for Lover's Ease;  
To recompense that restless Pains,  
those Torments and those Fears,  
Those Sighs, (of which we all complain)  
in our most happy years.   

VIII.  
Then fairest Nymph let Strephon find  
the Pleasures of thy Arms,  
Be like a beauteous Goddess kind,  
and yield me all thy Charms;  
The Pleasures of the Gods above,  
I will not envy then,  
Such are the mighty Joys of Love,  
ordained for Happy Men.    

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pie-corner.