Rural maid, who, o'er glade,
Forest, plain, and mountain, roam
In joy and peace, and made
Happy by the brook's gay foam;
Who art content to live
In the farmer's domicil;
A listening ear give
To a stranger, who, with quill
In hand, sits down to write
An epistle, or letter,
To one, of whom it might
Be said, she's far his better.
Fair maiden, thou hast said,
And I doubt not truly too,
A farmer thou would wed,
If he would sincerely woo
Thy heart's best affection,
And at the holy altar
Vow, that kind protection
He'd give thee, and never falter,
But sacred keep the vow
Thus solemn made, and never,
So long as life lasts, bow
Down, and let this bond sever.
Lady fair, wouldst thou dare
A mechanic's wife to be,
And with him toil, and share
All the ills of life's rough sea?
Wouldst thou trust thy frail bark
In his hands, and if perchance
Ills should come, thick and dark,
Stand firmly, and thus enhance
His happiness, and not,
At disappointment's first dart,
Complain of thy sad lot,
And sink under a faint heart?
What sayest thou, fair one?
Dost thou view the mechanic,
As some _fair_ ones have done,
With disgust, who grow frantic
At the sight of his dress,
Just because it does not fit
So smooth as they confess
That they should like to see it?
Dost thou, in honesty
Of heart, think him good and wise.
And in sincerity
Believe him not otherwise?
Dear lady, wouldst not thou,
To flee "single blessedness,"
Accept an offer now
From a mechanic, and bless
Him, throughout a long life,
With thy good fairy presence,
And ne'er the cry of strife
Raise, but yield obedience?
If _him_ thou wilt many,
Give him soon thy residence,
That he may not tarry,
But, with lightning speed, fly hence.