ould acquit this young Lord, he shou'd pay very dear;
Nor will they be pleased with him who on the Throne is,
If he do's not his part to revenge their _Adonis_.

With the Widow their amorous Bowels do yearn,
There are divers pretend to an equal Concern;
And by her Perswasion their Hearts they reveal,
In case if not guilty, to bring an Appeal:
They all will unite,
The young Blade to indite,
And in Prosecution will joyn Day and Night;
In the mean time full many a Tear and a Groan is,
Wherever they meet, for their departed _Adonis_.

With the Ladies foul Murther's a horrible Sin
Of one Handsome without, tho' a Coxcomb within;
For not being a Beau, the sad Fate of poor _Crab_,
Tho' himself hang'd for Love, was a Jest to each Drab;
Then may _Jering_ live long,
And may _Risby_ among
The Fair with _Jack Barkley_, and _Culpepper_ throng:
May no Ruffin whose Heart as hard as a Stone is,
Kill any of those for a Brother _Adonis_.

No Lady henceforth can be safe with her Beau,
They think if this Slaughter unpunish'd should go;
Their Gallants, for whose Persons they most are in Pain,
Must no sooner be envy'd, but strait must be Slain:
For all _B----_ shape,
None car'd for the Rape,
Nor whether the Virtuous their Lust did escape;
Their Trouble of Mind, and their anguish alone is,
For the too sudden Fate of departed _Adonis_.

Let not every vain Spark think that he can engage,
The Heart of a Female, like one on the Stage;
His Flute, and his Voice, and his Dancing are rare,
And wherever they meet, they prevail with the Fair:
But no quality Fop,
Charms like Mr. _Hop_,
Adorn'd on the Stage, and in _East-India_ Shop;
So that each from _Miss Felton_, to ancient _Drake Joan_ is,
Bemoaning the Death of the Player _Adonis_.

Yet _Adonis_ in spight of this new Abjuration,
Did banter the lawful King of this great Nation:
Who call'd God's anointed a foolish old Prig,
Was both a base and unmannerly _Whigg_:
But since he is Dead
No more shall be said,
For he in Repentance has laid down his Head;
So I wish each Lady, who in mournful Tone is,
In Charity Grieve for the Death of _Adonis_.

_A_ SONG.

_Set by Mr._ JAMES TOWNSHEND, _Organist of_ LYN RIGES. _The Words by_
J.R.

[Music]

Fly _Damon_ fly, 'tis Death to stay,
Nor listen to the _Syren's_ Song;
Nor hear her warbling Fingers play,
That kills in Consort with her Tongue:
Oft to despairing Shepherds Verse,
Unmov'd