When the Blythe Village-Maid, &c

When the bly the village-made leads her flocks to the plains, Ah, me! how I envy her lot! I'd spurn at the splendor a palace contains, With freedom to dwell in a cot: Awak'd by the lark, o'er my love as I hung, His slumbers I'd chace with a kiss; No tyrant to check me, no venomous tongue, With slander to fully my bliss. The toil of the day would be pleasure to me, Still drinking fresh health from the gale! And ev'ning would bring, with an aspect of glee, The legend, the song, or the tale: 'Till the still gloom of night wrapp'd the hamlet in rest, And my fancy grew big with alarms, Then I'd steal to my lover, creep close to his breast, And lose all my fears in his arms.