SONG.

My days have been so wondrous free, The little birds that fly With careless ease from tree to tree, Were but as bless'd as I.

Ask gliding waters, if a tear Of mine increased their stream? Or ask the flying gales, if e'er I lent one sigh to them?

But now my former days retire, And I'm by beauty caught, The tender chains of sweet desire Are fix'd upon my thought.

With all of Nature, all of Art, Assist the dear design; Oh teach a young, unpractised heart To make my Nancy mine.

The very thought of change I hate, As much as of despair; Nor ever covet to be great, Unless it be for her.

‘ Tis true, the passion in my mind Is mix'd with soft distress; Yet while the fair I love is kind, I cannot wish it less.