Sweet William. Ballad I

By a prattling stream, on a Midsummer's eve, Where the woodbine and jess'mine their boughs interweave, Fair Flora, I cry'd, to my arbour repair, For I must have a chaplet for sweet William's hair.

She brought me the vi'let that grows on the hill, The vale dwelling lilly, and gilded jonquill: But such languid odours how cou'd I approve, Just warm from the lips of the lad that I love.

She brought me, his faith and his truth to display, The undying myrtle, and ever-green bay: But why these to me, who've his constancy known? And Billy has laurels enough of his own.

The next was a gift that I could not contemn, For she brought me two roses that grew on a stem: Of the dear nuptial tie they stood emblems confest, So I kiss'd 'em, and press'd 'em quite close to my breast.

She brought me a sun-flow'r—This, fair one's, your due; For it once was a maiden, and love-sick like you: Oh! give it me quick, to my shepherd I'll run, As true to his flame, as this flow'r to the sun.