4
Then to her market basket
She tied her poney's rein;
I thus by female courage
Was dragg'd to life again.
She led me to her dwelling,
She cheer'd my heart with wine,
And then she deck'd a table
At which the gods might dine.
Among the mild Madonas
Her features you may find;
But not the fam'd Corregios
Could ever paint her mind.
Then sing the maid of Lodi,
Who sweetly sung to me;
And when this maid is married,
Still happier may she be.
Woes my heart that we should sunder.
With broken words and downcast eyes,
Poor Colin spoke his passion tender;
And, parting with his Lucy, cries,
Ah! woes my heart that we should sunder.
To others I am cold as snow,
But kindle with thine eyes like tinder;
From thee with pain I'm forc'd to go;
It breaks my heart that we should sunder.
