SONG CCXIV. The SPINNIG WHL

Young Collin Fishing near the Mill, Saw Sally underneath the Hill, Whose Heart Love's tender Pow'r cou'd feel. The Mill was stopt. no Miller there, She smil'd to see the Youth appear: But turn'd about her Spinning-wheel.

Thy Cheeks, says he, like Peaches bloom, Thy Breath is like the Spring's Perfume; On thy sweet Lips my Love I'll seal, Yon stately Swains so white and sleek, Are like to Sally's Breast and Neck, But still she turn'd her Spinning wheel.

Tho' fair one, Beauty's transient Pow'r, Fades like the new-blown gaudy Flow'r; Not so where Virtue loves to dwell, For where sweet Modesty appears, We never see the Vale of Years, She smil'd and stop'd her Spinning-wheel.

The Pomp of State, the Pride of Wealth, Says she, I scorn for Peace and Health, Where honest Labour earns her Meal: Who tells the Flatt'rer's common Tale, Can never o'er my Heart prevail, And make me leave my Spinning-wheel.

The Swain who loves the virtuous Mind, Alone can make young Sally kind; For him I'll toil, I'll spin and reel, It is the Voice, says he, of Love, Come hasten to yon Church above; She blush'd and left her Spinning-wheel.