 | The Harp of Erin |  |
192
THE SEARCH;
OR FLORIMEL STRAYED.
Gentle shepherds, have you seen,Tripping o'er the flow'ry green,
Her whose charms have wond'rous pow'r,
Lavish Nature's fairest flow'r!
Many tokens I can show
By which my sweetheart you may know.
In her cheeks sly dimples dwell,
Like the rose's dewy bell;
In her eyes, where rapture plays,
Quivers shine of pointed rays;
White her front as untrod snow,
Her breath the sweet-pea's balmy blow;
Her lips as tender morning red;
Her teeth, rich pearls in coral bed;
Her sunny tresses, waving, vie
With the brown broom's golden dye.
193
Some unworthy, mean mistake,
In the search for my soul's flame,
Single out the brightest dame,
Then bring the wand'rer back to me,
For that surely must be she!
| The Harp of Erin | |