( 22 )
And every day in all the pride
Of Sunday clothes I shone:
For this I set my cap on high,
And curl'd my flowing hair;
And, more to fix the wandering eye,
I left my bosom bare.
Too well, alas! my wish succeeds;
Attracted by my charms,
The youth his fervent passion pleads,
And clasps me in his arms.
He swore by every name in heav'n
He'd take me for his wife:
And as he hop'd his sins forgiv'n,
Would love me all his life.
While thus he press'd my bosom hard.
He breath'd an humble pray'r,
That I would instantly reward
A passion so sincere.
His soft caresses sooth'd my mind,
And virtue lull'd asleep;
My guardian angel staid behind,
And turn'd aside to weep.
Full many, many months he lov'd
With unabated fire,
And full enjoyment only prov'd
Creative of desire.
