The bashful look, the rising breast, Alternate spread alarms: The lovely stranger stands confest A maid in all her charms.
‘And, ah, forgive a stranger rude, A wretch forlorn,’ she cry’d; ‘Whose feet unhallowed thus intrude Where heaven and you reside.
‘But let a maid thy pity share, Whom love has taught to stray; Who seeks for rest, but finds despair Companion of her way.
‘My father liv’d beside the Tyne, A wealthy Lord was he; And all his wealth was mark’d as mine, He had but only me.
‘To win me from his tender arms, Unnumber’d suitors came; Who prais’d me for imputed charms, And felt or feign’d a flame.
‘Each hour a mercenary crowd, With richest proffers strove: Among the rest young Edwin bow’d, But never talk’d of love.
‘In humble simplest habit clad, No wealth nor power had he; Wisdom and worth were all he had, But these were all to me.
‘The blossom opening to the day, The dews of heaven refin’d, Could nought of purity display, To emulate his mind.
‘The dew, the blossom on the tree, With charms inconstant shine; Their charms were his, but woe to me, Their constancy was mine.