Page:Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life.pdf/7

[7] The other ſtruck her colours now,

but, oh! too late his life to ſave,

For, e'er the hoſtile flag was low,

a ſhot had mark'd him for the grave.



N fair Edina dwelt a maid,

not of high birth, nor low,

'Tis not material when, I trow;

but 'tis not long ago.

Howe'er this Laſs of Laſſes was

much for beauty fam'd;

Each foppling that could read and write,

her praiſe in verſe proclaim'd.

Ye god's! ſhe was a virgin fair,

none could her charms excel;

No roſe in Ekron's vale could e'er

compare with bonny Bell.

For her full long did Strephon whine,

for her he rack'd his breaſt;

But no fond flatt'rer could engage

this Helen of the weſt.

Ignaro next the fair addreſs'd,

he too a paſſion feign'd;

Plutus in vain did urge his ſuit,

but both the maid diſdain'd.

At laſt grave Damon made his ſuit,

ſhe liſten'd to his tale;