Published in "A Collection of Songs with Symphonies", London, c.1756.

Lyrics: Anon

In pity, Celia, to my pain,
No more my heart reprove;
Nor let the blasts of cold disdain
Destroy my rising love.
When first the springing flow'r appears
And shews its infant head,
Each gentlest wind it shiv'ring fears
And courts the gardener's aid.

My love too, yet but newly blown,
Must die for want of care;
'Tis yours, as you the seeds have sown
To save the flow'rs they bear.
No longer then, with rigid brow,
Perplex my faithful mind;
Since love, you see, and justice too,
Expects you to be kind.