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.