5
For her eyes they're so enflaming,
that many they're like to burn,
But if she'd grant her hand to me,
we’d leave the rest to mourn
Her smiles new life gives to my heart,
her frowns ⟨are⟩ like to kill
O if the may uot be my love,
from my heart keep her still.
For happy thrice that youth must be,
who folds her in his arms,
Who access has and freedom too,
to enjoy all her charms.
O had I her into my arms,
how happy would I be?
If this I get, I'll dance and sing,
and love my sweet Alie.
The Maid in Bedlam.
One morning very early,
one morning in the spring,
I heard a maid in Bedlam,
who mournfully did sing,
Her chains she rattled in her hands,
while sweetly thus sung she,
I love my love, because I know
my love loves me.
Oh! cruel were his parents,
