'T WAS as birght Phebus from the ocean rose,
And sighing zephyrs sprang to kiss the boughs;
That ROGER, artless [as his numbers are]
Reclining, thus address'd his faithless fair: —
" O SUSAN! canst thou so ungrateful prove?
" Ah! set at nought thy ROGER's plighted love!
" Canst thou forget what goodly fairings I
" Would bring thee home? What pleasing ballads buy —
" With minims set? and pins to deck thy hair?
" Nor ever thought a village lass so fair —
" How canst thou, SUSAN, from thy vows depart?
" Vows, whilst upon thy sheath I carv'd my heart;
" The glass and spoon, you said, should disagree,
" The much-lov'd kettle lose its use at tea;
" Christmas should turn to Whitsunday, and reel
" The year about, — as doth thy fav'rite wheel.
" E're thou wouldst faithless prove, or change to be.
" The pride, the joy, of any swain but me:
" Nowah! ambitious of some wealthier spouse
" Thou disregard'st me, disregard'st thy vows.