Will Worthy was a sprightly lad
As ever trod the mead;
He thought no cares could make him sad,
While pleasure took the lead.
Dex’trous at all the rustic games,
He oft his strength display’d,
Now the swift race his breast inflames,
By emulation sway’d.
At every country fair and wake,
Will was the wonder there:
Fair females crowded for his sake,
And strove his smiles to share.
Sweet Nancy Wilmot of the vale,
Won William’s roving heart;
To her he told love’s tender tale,
Now nothing could them part.
To church they went, the knot was tied,
The day was spent in glee;
Inviting all to them allied,
To join their jollity.
The self-same eve, when on the green,
Will danc’d with Nance his bride;
Lo! what a sad reverse of scene,
She fainted—droop’d—and died!!!
Dismay and horror seiz’d each soul,
When this sad news was known,
For her the passing-bell did toll,
Eternity her home.
Like the weak grass, or tender flow’r,
Or vapour’s empty breath;
Sweet Nancy wither’d in an hour,
Cut down by sudden death.
William bewail’d her early fate,
A prey to woe and grief;
Pensive, forlorn, and wan he sat,
And would have no relief.
The question “if her soul was safe?”
Gave poignancy to woe;
Should hell have follow’d sudden death,
“Would she not thither go?”