* * * * *
Thou dearest little Gwen, kindest maiden of all,
With cheeks fair and ruddy, and teeth white and small,
With thy blue sparkling eyes, and thy eye-brows so bright,
Ah, how I would love thee, sweet girl, if I might!
* * * * *
Place on my breast, if still you doubt,
Your hand, but no rough pressure making,
And, if you listen, you'll find out,
How throbs a little heart when breaking.
* * * * *
Both old maids and young ones, the witless and wise
Gain husbands at pleasure, while none will me prize;
Ah! why should the swains think so meanly of me,
And I full as comely as any they see!
* * * * *
From this world all in time must move,
'Tis known to every simple swain;
And 'twere as well to die of love
As any other mortal pain.
* * * * *
'Tis noised abroad, where'er one goes,
And I am fain to hear,
That no one in the country knows
The girl to me most dear:
And, 'tis so true, that scarce I wot,
If I know well myself or not.
* * * * *
What noise and scandal fill my ear,
One half the world to censure prone!
Of all the faults that thus I hear,
None yet have told me of their own.
Pages:
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104