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When lock'd arm in arm we retire from the city,
To stray through the meadow or shadowy grove,
How oft do I wake her compassion and pity,
While telling some tale of unfortunate love.
To stray through the meadow or shadowy grove,
How oft do I wake her compassion and pity,
While telling some tale of unfortunate love.
Her innocent answers delight me to hear them,
For art or dissembling to her are unknown;
And false protestations she knows not to fear them,
But thinks that each heart is as kind as her own.
For art or dissembling to her are unknown;
And false protestations she knows not to fear them,
But thinks that each heart is as kind as her own.
And lives there a villain, who, born to dissemble,
Would dare an attempt to dishonour her fame;
May blackest confusion, surrounding, assemble,
And bury the wretch in distraction and shame.
Would dare an attempt to dishonour her fame;
May blackest confusion, surrounding, assemble,
And bury the wretch in distraction and shame.
Ye pow'rs! be my task to protect and behold her,
To wander delighted with her all the day:
When sadness dejects, in my arms to enfold her,
And kiss, in salt raptures, her sorrows away.
To wander delighted with her all the day:
When sadness dejects, in my arms to enfold her,
And kiss, in salt raptures, her sorrows away.
But hush! who comes yonder? 'tis Matty, my dearest;
The moon, how it brightens, while she treads the plain!
I'll welcome my beautiful nymph, by the nearest,
And pour my whole soul in her bosom again.
The moon, how it brightens, while she treads the plain!
I'll welcome my beautiful nymph, by the nearest,
And pour my whole soul in her bosom again.
