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ON ANGLING. |
21 |
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BY AN ANGLING STREAM.
By an angling stream, on a Midsummer's eve, Where woodbines and jes'mine their bows interweave; Fair Flora, I cry'd, to my arbour repair ; I must have a chaplet for sweet William's hair.
I must, &c.
Slit brought me the violet that grew on the hill, The vale-dwelling, and gilded jonquil ; But such languid odours how could I approve, Just warm from the lips of the lass that I love ?
Just warm, &c.
She brought me his faith, and his truth to display, The undying myrtle, and ever green bay; But why these to me, who've his constancy known > And Billy has laurels enough of his own.
And Billy, &c
The next was a gift that I could not contemn, For she brought me two rosets, that grew on the stem Of the dear nuptial tie, they stood emblems confest ; So I kiss'd them, and prest them quite close to my breast. So I kiss'd, &c.
She brought me a sun-flower; this fair-ones your
due ; For it once was a maiden, and love-sick for you ; O give it me quick ; to my angler I'll run, As true to his flame as this flower to the sun.
As true, &c. |
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