Page:Excellent old song intitled, Maggy Lauther.pdf/7

 Then his breath grew short

And his pulse beat high,

He long'd to touch

What be chanc'd to spy,

With a fa, la, la, &c

But durst not still draw nigh.

All amaz'd he stood.

With her beauties fir'd.

And blest the courteous wind;

Then in whispers sigh’d,

And the Gods desir'd,

That Celia might be kind:

When with hopes grown bold,

He advanc’d amain;

But she laugh'd loud

In a dream and again,

With a fa, la, la, &c.

Repell d the timorous swain.

Yet the amorous youth,

To relieve his soft pain,

The slumbering maid caress'd;

And with trembling hand,

(O simple poor swain!)

Her glowing bosom press’d;

When the virgin awak'd,

And afrighted flew,

Yet look’d as wishing

He would pursue:

With a fa, la, la, &c.

But Damon mist his cue.