The Wedding Day

What virgin or shepherd, in valley or grove, Will annoy my innocent lays; The song of the heart, or the offspring of love, When sung to my Corydon's praise, O'er brook and o'er brake, as he hies to the bower, So lightly the shepherd can trip; And sure, when of love he describes the soft power, The honey dew drops from his lip.

How sweet is the primrose, the vi'let how sweet, And sweet is the eglautine breeze; But Corydon's kiss when by moon-light we meet, To me are far sweeter than these. I blush at his raptures, I hear all his vows, I sigh, when I offer to speak, And, O! what delight my fond bosom o'er flows, When I feel the loft touch of his cheek.

Responsive and shrill be the notes from the spray, Let the pipe thro' the village resound, Be smiles on each face, O! ye shepherds, to-day, And ring the bells merrily round. Your favours prepare, my companions, with speed, Assist me my blushes to hide; A twelve month agone, this day I agreed, For to be my love Corydon's bride.