To press thy gentle hand in mine,
And call thee my sweet wife.
If Adam lost his happiness,
Bewailed with ceaseless sighs,
With thee, my Eve, I scarce could wish
Another Paradise.
THOUGH THOU WAST PASSING FAIR.
Though thou wast passing fair,
To press thy gentle hand in mine,
And call thee my sweet wife.
If Adam lost his happiness,
Bewailed with ceaseless sighs,
With thee, my Eve, I scarce could wish
Another Paradise.
Though thou wast passing fair,