Try you my patience? Can you be sincere?
And am I told a willing hand to give
To a rude farmer, and with rustics live?
Far other fate was yours; - some gentle youth
Admir’d your beauty, and avow’d his truth;
The power of love prevail’d, and freely both
Gave the fond heart, and pledged the binding oath;
And then the rival’s plot, the parent’s power,
And jealous fears, drew on the happy hour:
Ah! let not memory lose the blissful view,