Second SONG without.
Where lay'st thou thy careless head?
On the cold heath is my bed.
Where the moor-cock shuts his wing,
And the brown snake weaves his ring,
Safe and fearless will I be,
The coiled adder stings not me.
Elb. (rising displeased from her seat.)
Call those who wait without. What may this mean?
Enter an Attendant.
Such plaintive music makes?
Atten. Pardon, my royal dame! be not offended!
'Tis a poor maid bereaved of her mind.
Rent are her robes, her scatter'd locks unbound.
Like one who long thro' rugged ways hath stray'd,
Beat with the surly blast; but never yet,
Tho' all so sorely shent, did I behold
A fairer maid. She aims at no despite:
She's wild but gentle.
Dwi. O hark again!
Third SONG without.
*[1]Once upon my cheek
He said the roses grew,
But now they're wash'd away
With the cold ev'ning dew.
- ↑ * For this third Song, which is the only literary assistance either in verse or prose that I have ever received, I am indebted to the pen of a friend.
