Now from the pasture milking-maidens come, With each a swain to bear the burden home, Who often coax them on their pleasant way To soodle longer out in love’s delay; While on a mole-hill, or a resting stile, The simple rustics try their arts the while With glegging smiles, and hopes and fears between, Snatching a kiss to open what they mean: And all the utmost that their tongues can do, The honey’d words which nature learns to woo, The wild-flower sweets of language, “love” and “dear,” With warmest utterings meet each maiden’s ear; Who as by magic smit, she knows not why, From the warm look that waits a wish’d reply Droops fearful down in love’s delightful swoon As slinks the blossom from the suns of noon; While sighs half-smother’d from the throbbing breast, And broken words sweet trembling o’er the rest, And cheeks, in blushes burning, turn’d aside, Betray the plainer what she strives to hide. The amorous swain sees through the feign’d disguise, Discerns the fondness she at first denies, And with all passions love and truth can move Urges more strong the simpering maid to love; More freely using toying ways to win-- Tokens that echo from the soul within-- Her soft hand nipping, that with ardour burns, And, timid, gentlier presses its returns; Then stealing pins with innocent deceit, To loose the ’kerchief from its envied seat; Then unawares her bonnet he’ll untie, Her dark-brown ringlets wiping gently by, To steal a kiss in seemly feign’d disguise, As love yields kinder taken by surprise: While nearly conquer’d she less disapproves, And owns at last, mid tears and sighs, she loves. With sweetest feelings that this world bestows Now each to each their inmost souls disclose, Vow to be true; and to be truly ta’en, Repeat their loves, and vow it o’er again; And pause at loss of language to proclaim Those purest pleasures, yet without a name: And while, in highest ecstacy of bliss The shepherd holds her yielding hand in his He turns to heaven to witness what he feels, And silent shows what want of words conceals; Then ere the parting moments hustle nigh, And night in deeper dye his curtain dips, Till next day’s evening glads the anxious eye, He swears his truth, and seals it on her lips.