On A Bank Of Flowers

      On a bank of flowers, in a summer day,      For summer lightly drest,      The youthful, blooming Nelly lay,      With love and sleep opprest;      When Willie, wand'ring thro' the wood,      Who for her favour oft had sued;      He gaz'd, he wish'd      He fear'd, he blush'd,      And trembled where he stood.       Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd,      Were seal'd in soft repose;      Her lip, still as she fragrant breath'd,      It richer dyed the rose;      The springing lilies, sweetly prest,      Wild-wanton kissed her rival breast;      He gaz'd, he wish'd,      He mear'd, he blush'd,      His bosom ill at rest.       Her robes, light-waving in the breeze,      Her tender limbs embrace;      Her lovely form, her native ease,      All harmony and grace;      Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,      A faltering, ardent kiss he stole;      He gaz'd, he wish'd,      He fear'd, he blush'd,      And sigh'd his very soul.       As flies the partridge from the brake,      On fear-inspired wings,      So Nelly, starting, half-awake,      Away affrighted springs;      But Willie follow'd-as he should,      He overtook her in the wood;      He vow'd, he pray'd,      He found the maid      Forgiving all, and good.