The Echo, Song XI

On the green sedgy banks of the sweet winding Tay, As blithe as the woodlark that carols in May— I past the gay moments with joy and delight, For peace cheer'd the morn and content crown'd the night: Till love taught young hope, my youth to deceive, What we wish to be true, love bids us believe.—

Wherever I wander o'er hill, dale, or grove, Young Sandy will follow with sweet tales of love; Enraptur'd he vow'd with a kiss and a sigh, If Jemmy proves cruel, Alas! I must die! A youth so engaging, with ease might deceive, What we wish to be true, love bids us believe.

He stole my fond heart, then he left me to mourn, For peace and contentment which ne'er can return; From the clown to the beau, the sex are all art, They complain of the wound but we feel not the smart; We join in the fraud, and ourselves we deceive, What we wish to be true, love bids us believe.