In yonder mead my love I found

Beside a murm’ring brook reclin’d:

Her pretty lambkins dancing round

Secure in harmless bliss.

I bad the waters gently glide,

And vainly hush’d the heedless wind,

Then, softly kneeling by her side,

I stole a silent kiss—

She wak’d, and rising sweetly blush’d

By far more artless than the dove:

With eager haste I onward rush’d,

And clasp’d her in my arms;

Encircled thus in fond embrace

Our panting hearts beat mutual love—

A rosy-red o’er spread her face

And brighten’d all her charms.

Silent she stood, and sigh’d consent

To every tender kiss I gave;

I closely urg’d—to church we went,

And hymen join’d our hands.

Ye swains behold my bliss complete;

No longer then your own delay;

Believe me love is doubly sweet

In wedlocks holy bands.—

Content we tend our flocks by day,

Each rural pleasures amply taste;

And at the suns retiring ray

Prepare for new delight:

When from the field we haste away,

And send our blithsome care to rest,

We fondly sport and fondly play,

And love away the night.

Cœlia’s an artful little slut;

Be fond, she’ll kiss, et cetera—but

She must have all her will;

For, do but rub her ’gainst the grain

Behold a storm, blow winds and rain,

Go bid the waves be still.

So, stroking puss’s velvet paws

How well the jade conceals her claws

And purs; but if at last

You hap to squeeze her somewhat hard,

She spits—her back up—prenez garde;

Good faith she has you fast.