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.