THE THEFTS OF LOVE.
SONG XXXIII.
1
Yestre'en a fair maid came to me,
And sweetly said, and courteslie;
“The moon is up at midnight hour,
And my lady's in her painted bowr;
To rouse the deer my lord is gone,
And she maun lie all night alone;
So prove your faith and courtesie,
Rise up, kind sir, and follow me.”
2
What heart could say such kindness nay,
Adown the street I took my way;
I enter'd by a lonesome door
Into that lady's private bow'r;
The stars shone bright, the new woke moon
Celestial glow'd from heaven down;
My lady's cheeks, as in I came,
Were blushing red with love and shame.
3
From her lilly hand she gave to me,
A gold ring, dropp'd with diamonds three;
With rosie palm, from painted bowers
She led me 'mang the garden flowers;
Where fragrant thyme and violets wove,
A scented couch for kindliest love;
I slipt mine arms her waist aroun',
And prest their yielding blossoms down.
4
How sweet to rove at midnight hour,
With rosie dame in private bow'r;
And hold, on cowslip bank reclin'd,
Communion charming with the mind;
And pluck unknown from beauteous shoot,
Sweet beveridge of forbidden fruit;
While scarf'd the moon in golden sheet,
Sleeps conscious of a theft so sweet.
5
Thou diamond star, far beaming bright,
Set on the raven robes of night;
Thou moon, o'er evening's dusky ledge
Upheaving thine illustrious edge,
Till from a silver-tassel'd cloud,
Thou peerest like city lady proud;
I swear even by your heav'nly flame,
Ne'er for to lip that lady's name.
