Page:The Lover's Songster; a New Song Book; Being a Choice Collection of Celebrated Love Songs WDL3360.pdf/3



HILE I hang on your bosom, distracted to lose you, High swells my sad heart, and fast my tears flow, Yet think not of coldness they fall to accuse you, Did I ever upbraid you—Oh! no, my Love, no. I own it would please me at home could you tarry, Nor e'er feel a wish from Maria to go? But if it give pleasure to you, my dear Harry, Shall I blame your departure?—Oh! no, my love, no.

Now do not, dear Hal, while abroad you are straying, That heart which is mine on a rival bestow; Nay, banish that frown, such displeasure betraying, Do you think I suspect you?—Oh! no, my love, no. I believe you too kind for one moment to grieve me, Or plant in a heart which adores you such woe; Yet would you dishonour my truth and deceive me, Should I e'er cease to love you?—Oh! no my love, no,

ROM the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested A sprig her dear breast to adorn; No, by heav'ns! I exclaim'd, may I perish, If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.

Then I shew'd her a ring, and implor'd her to marry, She blush'd like the dawning of morn; Yes, I'll consent, she replied, if you promise, That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn. No, by heav'ns! &c.