Of all the nymphs who gave our village grace,
The Miller's daughter had the fairest face.
Proud was the Miller; money was his pride;
He rode to market, as our farmers ride;
And 'twas his boast, inspired by spirits, there,
His favourite Lucy should be rich as fair;
But she must meek and still obedient prove,
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And not presume, without his leave, to love.
A youthful Sailor heard him;—"Ha!" quoth he,