A Song.
18th Century Sarah Fyge Egerton EnglishA SONG.
How pleasant is Love, When forbid or unknown; Was my Passion approv'd, It would quickly be gone.
It adds to the Charms, When we steal the Delight; Why should Love be expos'd? Since himself has no Sight.
In some Silvan Shade, Let me sigh for my Swain; Where none but an Eccho, Will speak on't again.
Thus silent and soft, I'll pass the Time on; And when I grow weary, I'll make my Love known.