(Since Juliet first declar'd her passion)
To form the place of assignation.
Oh! would some modern muse inspire,
And seat her by a _sea-coal_ fire,
Or had the bard at Christmas written,
And laid the scene of love in Britain;
He surely in commiseration,
Had chang'd the place of declaration.
In Italy I've no objection,
Warm nights are proper for reflection;
But here, our climate is so rigid,
That love itself, is rather frigid;
Think on our chilly situation,
And curb this rage for imitation.
Then let us meet, as oft we've done,
Beneath the influence of the sun;
Or, if at midnight I must meet you,
Oh! let me in your chamber greet you;
_There_ we can love for hours together,
Much better in such snowy weather,
Than plac'd in all th' Arcadian groves,
That ever witness'd rural loves;
_There_ if my passion fail to please,
Next night I'll be content to freeze;
No more I'll give a loose to laughter,
But curse my fate, forever after.

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