4
It only brings my fatal fall,
It's I that must receive the wound;
The crimson dye forsook his cheek,
At his feet she dropp'd upon the ground.
Thus innocence he did betray,
Full sore against her chaste desire,
True love is a celestial charm,
But the flame of love is a raging fire.
But when her senses did revive,
He many vows and oaths did make,
That he'd for ever true remain,
Her company would not forsake.
PART II.
Into the lonely valley she
Would often wander all alone;
Sighing sadly to assuage her grief,
Tons in the bower would often mourn.
Oh that I was some pretty bird,
That I might fly and hide my shame,
Oh silly maid, for to believe
All the fair delusions of a man.
The harmless lamb can sport and pray,
The turtle constant to his mate,
Nothing so wretched is as I,
To love a man that does me hate.
