E'en that I should not mind.
If she were in mine arms but held,

To quench love's thirst I'd try;
And could my torments not be quell'd,

Upon her breast would die.

1776.*
------
THE COY ONE.

ONE Spring-morning bright and fair,

Roam'd a shepherdess and sang;
Young and beauteous, free from care,

Through the fields her clear notes rang:
So, Ia, Ia! le ralla, &c.

Of his lambs some two or three

Thyrsis offer'd for a kiss;
First she eyed him roguishly,

Then for answer sang but this:
So, Ia, Ia! le ralla, &c.

Ribbons did the next one offer,