AN OLD SONG. Author Unknown.

As, t’other day, o’er the green meadow I pass’d, A swain overtook me, and held my hand fast; Then cried, “My dear Lucy, thou cause of my care, How long must thy faithful young Thyrsis despair? To grant my petition, no longer be shy;” But, frowning, I answer’d, “O, fie, shepherd, fie!” He told me his fondness like time should endure; That beauty which kindled his flame ’twould secure; That all my sweet charms were for homage design’d, And youth was the season to love and be kind. Lord, what could I say? I could hardly deny, And faintly I uttered, “O, fie, shepherd, fie!” He swore—with a kiss—that he could not refrain; I told him ’twas rude, but he kissed me again. My conduct, ye fair ones, in question ne’er call, Nor think I did wrong—I did nothing at all! Resolved to resist, yet inclined to comply, I leave it for you to say, “Fie, shepherd, fie!”