“To peck the Fruit. Or when the Moon
“Stole o’er the hills, in silv’ry suit,
“How would she chaunt her lovelorn Tale
“Soft as the wild Eolian Lyre!
“’Till ev’ry brute, on hill, in dale,
“Listen’d with wonder mute!”
“O! Cease!” exclaim’d Dame Gurton, straight,
“Has my poor Puss been torn away?
“Alas! how cruel is my fate,
“How shall I pass the tedious day?