On A Bank Of Flowers

    on a bank of flowers
    on a bank of flowers, in a summer day,
    for summer lightly drest,
    the youthful, blooming nelly lay,
    with love and sleep opprest;
    when willie, wand'ring thro' the wood,
    who for her favour oft had sued;
    he gaz'd, he wish'd
    he fear'd, he blush'd,
    and trembled where he stood.
    her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd,
    were seal'd in soft repose;
    her lip, still as she fragrant breath'd,
    it richer dyed the rose;
    the springing lilies, sweetly prest,
    wild-wanton kissed her rival breast;
    he gaz'd, he wish'd,
    he mear'd, he blush'd,
    his bosom ill at rest.
    her robes, light-waving in the breeze,
    her tender limbs embrace;
    her lovely form, her native ease,
    all harmony and grace;
    tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
    a faltering, ardent kiss he stole;
    he gaz'd, he wish'd,
    he fear'd, he blush'd,
    and sigh'd his very soul.
    as flies the partridge from the brake,
    on fear-inspired wings,
    so nelly, starting, half-awake,
    away affrighted springs;
    but willie follow'd—as he should,
    he overtook her in the wood;
    he vow'd, he pray'd,
    he found the maid
    forgiving all, and good.