The Countess of ANGLESEY lead Captive by the Rebels,
at the Disforresting of Pewsam.
SONG.
1
O vvhither will you lead the Fair,
And spicy Daughter of the Morne?
Those Manacles of her soft Haire,
Princes, though free, would faine have worn.
2
VVhat is her crime? what has she done?
Did she, by breaking Beauty stay,
Or from his Course mislead the Sun;
So robb'd your Harvest of a Day?
3
Or did her voyce, divinely clear!
(Since lately in your Forrest bred)
Make all the Trees dance after her,
And so your VVoods disforrested?
4
Run, Run! Pursue this Gothick Rout,
VVho rudely Love in bondage keep;
Sure all old Lovers have the Goute,
The young are overwatcht and sleep.