SONG
III
.
YE
gentle
nymphs
and
generous
dames
That
rule
o'er
every
British
mind
;
Be
sure
ye
soothe
their
amorous
flames
,
Be
sure
your
laws
are
not
unkind
.
For
hard
it
is
to
wear
their
bloom
In
unremitting
sighs
away
:
To
mourn
the
night's
oppressive
gloom
,
And
faintly
bless
the
rising
day
.
And
cruel
'twere
a
free-born
swain
,
A
British
youth
should
vainly
moan
;
Who
scornful
of
a
tyrant's
chain
,
Submits
to
yours
,
and
yours
alone
.
Nor
pointed
spear
,
nor
links
of
steel
,
Could
e'er
those
gallant
minds
subdue
,
Who
beauty's
wounds
with
pleasure
feel
,
And
boast
the
fetters
wrought
by
you
.