Probably written (c.1799) for performance at the Bath concerts.

Lyrics: Peter Pindar (John Wolcot)

Fair was the morning of my love,
When Cynthia bless'd my humble bow'r;
'Twas song, 'twas bliss from grove to grove;
For what but bliss could rule the hour?
But fortune shew'd an alter'd mien;
Hope's golden beam was soon o'ercast.
The cloud of sorrow dimmed the scene,
And ev'ry hour I wish'd the last.

Behold, the fair deceiver gone,
And anguish fills the place of joy!
What has thy slighted lover done,
That now thy frowns his peace destroy?
Oh Cynthia, if to sing thy praise,
And languish for that form divine,
If this thy frown of anger raise,
I own the guilt is mine.