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!"