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224 SONGS, ETC.
The last time I fish'd down this stream,
I pass'd my Anne's cot, The fleeting scene is like a dream,
Still ne'er to he forgot. Her rudy cheek and dimpl'd smile,
Caught my enchanted eye ; With coyness shy, devoid of guile,
She beckon'd me hard by.
I threw the rod into the glade,
And press'd her hand a while, By tales of love, the gentle maid,
I won her graceful smile. She vow'd to me that true she'd be,
No wandering thought retain ; And I, in turn, with rapt'rous glee,
Allegiance swore again.
Ere long, by Hymen's happy chains,
Two hearts were made to one, She's sooth'd for years my growing pains,
And cheer'd me when alone. To me, therefore, this purling rill,
Has prov'd a source of gain ; May love and peace—the rod and creel,
Its future fame maintain. 1781.