 | Ballads in Imitation of the Antient |  |
133
BALLAD Of POOR ROSA.
Rosa sat sighing beside the clear brook,
Sing hey Lillo, ho Lillo lee;
Pale was her cheek, and dejected her look,
On the green turf lay her basket and crook,
She sigh'd forth—“Alas! woe is me;
“Ah why did he stray
“From me far away?
“Never, poor Rosa, wilt thou see him more,
“Willy, the swain whom thy soul doth adore!”
Sing hey Lillo, ho Lillo lee;
Pale was her cheek, and dejected her look,
On the green turf lay her basket and crook,
She sigh'd forth—“Alas! woe is me;
“Ah why did he stray
“From me far away?
“Never, poor Rosa, wilt thou see him more,
“Willy, the swain whom thy soul doth adore!”
134
Her ringlets fell loosely o'er her white breast,
Sing hey Lillo, ho lillo, lee;
Her heart once so gay was misery's nest,
And on her temples she wore a sad crest,
'Twas pluck'd from the pale willow tree,
That moss bank'd willow
Which serv'd for a pillow,
Whose wide branches shelter'd poor Rosa's head,
Rosa that sigh'd—“Ah! my William is fled.”
Sing hey Lillo, ho lillo, lee;
Her heart once so gay was misery's nest,
And on her temples she wore a sad crest,
'Twas pluck'd from the pale willow tree,
That moss bank'd willow
Which serv'd for a pillow,
Whose wide branches shelter'd poor Rosa's head,
Rosa that sigh'd—“Ah! my William is fled.”
Worn out with anguish, now Rosa doth stray,
Singing Lillo—Hey lillo, lee;
Her notes breath sadness, and this is her lay,
“My swain has fled from me, alack well-away,
“And sorrow, poor Rosa's for thee;
“Alack woe is me,
“Hard hearted Willy!”
And she sigh'd forth these words, faint grew her breath,
And Rosa, poor Rosa, now sleeps in death!
Singing Lillo—Hey lillo, lee;
Her notes breath sadness, and this is her lay,
“My swain has fled from me, alack well-away,
“And sorrow, poor Rosa's for thee;
“Alack woe is me,
“Hard hearted Willy!”
And she sigh'd forth these words, faint grew her breath,
And Rosa, poor Rosa, now sleeps in death!
| Ballads in Imitation of the Antient | |