 | Irish Songs and Ballads |  |
190
MYRTILLA.
Myrtilla boasts a marble brow
By ebon tresses softly swept,
Myrtilla's mouth is Cupid's bow
In rosy nectar newly dipped,
And heaven's own azure lights her eyes,
Her cheek bids roses blush in vain;
Say, shall the lovely nymph surprise
This bosom with her conquering chain?
By ebon tresses softly swept,
Myrtilla's mouth is Cupid's bow
In rosy nectar newly dipped,
And heaven's own azure lights her eyes,
Her cheek bids roses blush in vain;
Say, shall the lovely nymph surprise
This bosom with her conquering chain?
Nay, I mistrust the studied skill
That twines her tresses' silken snare;
The honied sigh her lips distil
Is heaved with too consummate care;
Her eyes, with all too amorous art,
Now shun, and now upon me shine;
Too well thou hast rehearsed thy part,
Myrtilla, ever to be mine!
That twines her tresses' silken snare;
The honied sigh her lips distil
Is heaved with too consummate care;
Her eyes, with all too amorous art,
Now shun, and now upon me shine;
Too well thou hast rehearsed thy part,
Myrtilla, ever to be mine!
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