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Chorus. A lottery, a lottery,

In Cupid's court there us'd to be,

Two roguish eyes

The highest prize,

In Cupid's scheming lottery.

Ladies and gentlemen-gentlemen and ladies-go not to Cupid's court,

For, whatever the young woman may say, 'tis a place of very bad resort.

AIR.

But mine is the lottery-hasten to me;

Here's scissors and satires, as sharp as can be :-. Here's a drawing of cork, here's a cork-screw for

wine,

Here are pills for the cough-and here's Gibbon's "Decline;"

Here's a bright carving knife—here's a learned review, Here's an essay on marriage, and here's a cuckoo.

CHORUS.

Our lottery-our lottery

Ye youths and maidens, come to me!

"Tis ne'er too late

To try your fate

In this our lucky lottery.

A spirit there is.

A spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh
Is burning now through earth and air:
Where cheeks are blushing, the spirit is nigh;
Where lips are meeting, the spirit is there!

His breath is the soul of flowers like these,
And his floating eyes-oh! they resemble
Blue water-lilies, when the breeze92

Is making the stream around them tremble.

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power!
Spirit of love, spirit of bliss!

Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

By the fair and brave,

Who blushing unite,
Like the sun and wave,
When they meet at night!

By the tear that shows
When passion is nigh,
As the rain-drop flows

From the heat of the sky!

By the first love-beat

Of the youthful heart,
By the bliss to meet,

And the pain to part!

By all that thou hast

To mortals given,

Which-oh! could it last,

This earth were heaven!

We call thee hither, entrancing power!
Spirit of love! spirit of bliss!

Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

Can I again that look recall.

Can I again that look recall,

Which once could make me die for thee?

No, no, the eye that burns on all,

Shall never more be priz'd by me.

Can I again that form caress,

Or on that lip in joy recline?

No, no-the lip that all may press,
Shall never more be press'd by mine.

Come hither, come hither.

Come hither, come hither-by night and by day,
We linger in pleasures that never are gone;
Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away,
Another as sweet and as shining comes on.
And the love that is o'er, in expiring gives birth
To a new one as warm, as unequall'd in bliss;
And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh
As the flower of the Amra just op'd by a bee ;93
And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,94
Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea.

Oh! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth
When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss,
And own, if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

Here sparkles the nectar, that, hallowed by love, Could draw down those angels of old from their

sphere,

Who for wine of this earth left the fountains above,95

And forgot heav'n's stars for the eyes we have here. And bless'd with the odour our goblet gives forth,

What spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss ? For oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,

It is this, it is this.

Dear aunt.

Dear aunt! in the olden time of love,
When women like slaves were spurn'd,
A maid gave her heart as she would her glove,
To be teaz'd by a fop, and-return'd;
But women grow wiser as men improve,

And though beaus like monkeys amuse us,
Oh! think not we'd give such a delicate gem
As the heart, to be play'd with or sullied by them;
No-dearest aunt! excuse us.

We may know by the head on Cupid's seal
What impression the heart will take;

If shallow the head, oh! soon we feel
What a poor impression 'twill make.
Though plagued, heaven knows! by the foolish zeal
Of the fondling fop who pursues me,

Oh! think not I'd follow their desperate rule,
Who get rid of the folly by wedding the fool;
No-dearest aunt! excuse me,

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