6
Her fine silver hair sweet breezes did wave,
On a bank of sweet lilies she carelessly lay.
O gods ! said the ’squire, sure she is divine,
But if she is mortal, oh! let her be mine,
He little thought it was his love so true,
Men so much admire each beauty they view.
The charming Shepherdess turned her eyes,
Soon did she know him to her surprise,
But yet who she was he did not know,
At length to her cottage she homeward did go.
He followed her home, saying, sweet fair,
Pity a lover that is in despair;
For by the glance of your charming eyes,
My love-sick heart is fill’d with surprise.
Sir, you seem a person of high degree,
And I a poor Shepherdess now as you see:
Talk not sweet, creature, thy charms are so sweet,
Will cause the great monarch to fall at your feet.
The Shepherdess then invited him in,
But now afresh her sorrows do begin:
The garland of flowers being took from her head,
He knew it was his love he thought had been dead.
His love-sick heart he soon did abate,
But he unto her no notice did take;
Quoth he to himself, since it is thee,
I, ere to-morrow, your butcher will be.
