While in his heart love’s kindling passion burns.
A lovely nymph, adorn’d with ev’ry grace,
Fairer than fam’d, of old, Arcadia’s race:
An easy shape, and graceful in her air,
The virgins’ envy, and the swains’ despair.
Her name was Mary, from the banks of Clyde,
She came to taste the summer in its pride.
One fatal eve, this charming youth pass’d by,
And on this blooming damsel cast his eye:
Her charms, resistless, smote his gen’rous heart,