That all my sweet charms were for homage design’d,
And youth was the season to love and be kind.
Lord, what could I say? I could hardly deny,
And faintly I uttered, “O, fie, shepherd, fie!”
He swore—with a kiss—that he could not refrain;
I told him ’twas rude, but he kissed me again.
My conduct, ye fair ones, in question ne’er call,
Nor think I did wrong—I did nothing at all!
Resolved to resist, yet inclined to comply,
I leave it for you to say, “Fie, shepherd, fie!”