When on my bosom thy bright eyes, Florinda, dart their heavenly beams,
I feel not the least love surprise, Yet endless tears flow down in streams;
There's nought so beautiful in thee, But you may find the same in me.
The lilies of thy skin compare; In me you see them full as white:
The roses of your cheeks,
I dare Affirm, can't glow to more delight.
Then, since I show as fine a face, Can you refuse a soft embrace?
Ah! lovely nymph, thou'rt in thy prime! And so am I, while thou art here;
But soon will come the fatal time, When all we see shall disappear.'Tis mine to make a just reflection, And yours to follow my direction.
Then catch admirers while you may; Treat not your lovers with disdain;
For time with beauty flies away, And there is no return again.
To you the sad account I bring, Life's autumn has no second spring.
