AN OLD SONG.
Author Unknown.
As, t’other day, o’er the green meadow I pass’d,
A swain overtook me, and held my hand fast;
Then cried, “My dear Lucy, thou cause of my care,
How long must thy faithful young Thyrsis despair?
To grant my petition, no longer be shy;”
But, frowning, I answer’d, “O, fie, shepherd, fie!”
He told me his fondness like time should endure;
That beauty which kindled his flame ’twould secure;