The
PHOENIX
.
A
SONG
.
A
Female
Friend
advis'd
a
Swain
(
Whose
Heart
she
wish'd
at
ease
)
Make
Love
thy
Pleasure
,
not
thy
Pain
,
Nor
let
it
deeply
seize
.
Beauty
,
where
Vanities
abound
,
No
serious
Passion
claims
;
Then
,
'till
a
Phoenix
can
be
found
,
Do
not
admit
the
Flames
.
But
griev'd
She
finds
,
that
his
Replies
(
Since
prepossess'd
when
Young
)
Take
all
their
Hints
from
Silvia's
Eyes
,
None
from
ARDELIA's
Tongue
.
Thus
,
Cupid
,
of
our
Aim
we
miss
,
Who
wou'd
unbend
thy
Bow
;
And
each
slight
Nymph
a
Phoenix
is
,
When
Love
will
have
it
so
.