Both love’d: and tho’ a Gard’ner he,
He knew not what it was to rake.
Cold blows the blast:—the night’s obscure:
The mansion’s crazy wainscots crack:
No star appear’d:—and all the Moor,
Like ev’ry other Moor,—was black.
Alone, pale, trembling, near the fire,
The lovely Molly Dumpling sat;
Much did she fear, and much admire
What Thomas Gard’ner could be at.