Page:Pope's knavery, or, Old Nick's invention (1).pdf/5

5 For her eyes they're so enflaming,

that many they're like to burn,

But if she'd grant her hand to me,

we’d leave the rest to mourn

Her smiles new life gives to my heart,

her frowns like to kill

O if the may uotnot [sic] be my love,

from my heart keep her still.

For happy thrice that youth must be,

who folds her in his arms,

Who access has and freedom too,

to enjoy all her charms.

O had I her into my arms,

how happy would I be?

If this I get, I'll dance and sing,

and love my sweet Alie.

The Maid in Bedlam.

One morning very early,

one morning in the spring,

I heard a maid in Bedlam,

who mournfully did sing,

Her chains she rattled in her hands,

while sweetly thus sung she,

I love my love, because I know

my love loves me.

Oh! cruel were his parents,

who sent my love to sea,