I ask his business in that favour’d place;
A Golden Shield I cast before his Eyes
And never leave him till away he flies.
Tho’ stubborn oft, his utmost Wrath I dare
And sing exulting, Now begone, old Care!
This Villain Care had pinch’d a modest Cheek,
And so opprest her that she fear’d to speak.
Her Lover’s father, of her Charms afraid, 150
Forc’d [her] fond Lover from the pining Maid.
Poor Ellen’s Mother shar’d her Daughter’s Pain,