Fancies Phoenix. O● The Peerless Paragon of the Times.  
Being a young Gallants description of a Lady which he hath settled his thoughts on, resolving never to change, nor to love any other beauty or face in the World.  
And is persuaded if there be,  
A Phoenix in the world, 'tis she.  
To an Amorous new Tune.  

 

COme all you bachelors so brave,  
that spend your time in Cupid's court  
And with your compliments do crave,  
with many Ladies for to sport  
I am contrary to your mind  
I Court but one and she's unkind.  

She's virtuous, chaste, and if there be  
a Phoenix in the world, 'tis she.    

I must confess I am in Love  
although I thought I never should  
But sure she was sent from above  
and made of nature's chiefest mould  
So pure, so fair, and all Divine  
I'll quit the world to make her mine,  

She's virtuous, chaste, and if there be, &c.    

I little thought I ever could  
by any beauty ere be won  
Nor can I now if that I would  
remove my mind on any one  
No wealth, no beauty, nor no face  
my fixed thoughts from her displace,  

she's virtuous, chaste, and if there be, &c.    

Do you not see the Stars retreat  
when Sol salutes the sky so clear  
So must all beauties ne'er so great  
shrink and withdraw when she appear  
So bright, so clear that all must say  
'tis fair Roselia claims the day  

she's virtuous, chaste and if there be, &c.    

Her bashful Cheeks with blushing sweet  
casts such a rich vermilion die  
That Rose and lily there doth meet  
each striving for the victory  
So rare, so pure, you'll scarce believe  
dame Nature could such colours give  

she's virtuous, chaste, and if there be, &c.    

Her Eyes like sparks of Diamonds clear  
such glances casts in modest sort  
No wantonness in them appear  
yet Cupid sure th●re keep his Court  
'Twas from her eyes he shot his dart  
that thus hath pierced my love-sick heart  

she's virtuous, chaste, and if there be  
a Phoenix in the world, 'tis she.     

The second part  
to the same Tune  
 
 

But say my Muse, what need have I  
to praise her beauty in such sort  
When as her fame abroad doth fly  
more than I can of her report  
Were she to me as kind as fair  
then might I live and not despair;  

But sure I think if that there be  
a Phoenix in the world, 'tis she,    

For she desires to be alone  
and never to participate  
Her love she saith to any one,  
but single live without a mate  
Such thoughts I think in few remain  
yet doth in her, the more's my pain  

Then sure I think if that there be, &c.    

Cruel she is to none I hear  
no more she is not unto me  
Nor proud she is not that is rare  
you'll say in women for to be  
She's courteous, lovely chaste and fair  
'tis few that can with her compare,  

For sure I think if that there be, &c.    

Then if she Phenix-like will live  
and die alone I am content  
My heart to her I'll freely give  
unto no other I'll consent  
But in her flames my heart shall burn  
and Phenix-like to ashes turn  

For it is her and none but she  
by whom I must revived be.    

And if she will not yield at last  
but still her resolutions hold  
I will not think my time ill spent  
nor yet my love shall near wax cold  
To stay for such a one as she  
I think no time there lost wi●l be  

I'd better with my fancy wed  
than lodge some women in my bed.    

If that you needs would know of me  
whereas this phoenix doth abide  
For that I must excused be  
yet near the Strand she doth reside,  
No other notice will I give  
to any one whilst I do live,  

And if she doth a Phoenix die  
look in her ashes there am I.    

You roving bachelors that be  
resolved for to spend your time  
In several maiden's company  
when as their beauty are in prime  
Beware, beware, let virtue guide  
thee to a Maid to make thy Bride  

Let not her beauty tempt your eye  
least virtue too in her you spy.    

I must depart time calls away  
I cannot now express my mind  
This Song is long ●nough you'll say  
unless that she did prove more kind  
She's virtuous, chaste, and therefore I  
resolve to love her till I die;  

For sure I think if that there be  
a Phoenix in the world, 'tis she.     
C. H.  
FINIS.   

London, Printed for F. Grove▪ entered according to Order.