'I, I your friend!' exclaims, with panting charms,
A rosy girl, and darts into her arms.
'What! will you leave me? Me, your other heart,
Your favourite Ellen? No, we must not part;
No, never! come, and in our cottage live;
Come, for the cruel village shall forgive.
O, my own darling, come, and unreproved,
Here on this heart rest ever, ever lov'd;
Here on this constant heart!' While thus she spoke,
Her furious sire the linkt embraces broke.