Ah! hapless wretch, quoth she, I am While some delight to feel love's flame I think myself accurst ; Yet will I never rest till I Find out this prince of mine, Who strangely, and so privately, Forsook his Amadine. A shower of tears then trickled down Did chance to hear her voice, Though first he was possest with fear, At last he did rejoice. Certain it is, quoth he, the tongue To whom I have done too much wrong, For love is such a strange disease No tongue can well express. To Amadine he then appear'd, Who startled was to see, She was by any over-heard, And in a swoon fell she; But her dear prince, with kisses sweet, Brought her again to life, That meeting was to them most sweet, He made her soon his wife. Ah! hapless wretch, quoth she, I am While some delight to feel love's fla Find out this prince of mine, was to see, ver-heard, low-chandler, ere but shallow, e two and sixpence w's tallow. Door Colly, y my cow, Colly will give me No more milk now. LXIX. The Countryman's Lamentation for the Death of his Cow. "A country swain of little wit one day, - Most pineously methinks he cries in vain, To a pleasant country tune called-Colly my Cow. LITTLE Tom Dogget What dost thou mean, To kill thy poor Colly Sing oh poor Colly, For Colly will give me No more milk now. |