But could not in the least prevail.
Oft Chloe sung in tender strain,
Calista danc’d upon the green;
But James in haste tripp’d o’er the plain,
And seem’d as though he had not seen.
Ulysses-like, he did defy
The Syren’s most enchanting voice;
In vain Matilda’s sparkling eye
Did labour hard to fix his choice.
Thou little, happy, smiling fair,