LOve never more shall give me pain,
My fancy’s fix’d on thee;
Nor ever maid my heart shall gain,
My Peggy, if thou die.
Thy beauties did such pleasure give,
Thy love’s so true to me:
Without thee I shall never live,
My deary, if thou die.
If fate shall tear thee from my breast,
How shall I lonely stray?
In dreary dreams the night I’ll waste,
In sighs the silent day.
I ne’er can so much virtue find,
Nor such perfection see:
Then I’ll renounce all woman-kind,
My Peggy, after thee.
No new blown beauty fires my heart
With Cupid’s raving rage,
But thine which can such sweets impart,
Must all the world engage.
‘Twas this that like the morning sun
Gave joy and life to me;
And when it’s destin’d day is done,
With Peggy let me die.
Ye powers that smile on virtuous love,
And in such pleasure share;
You who it’s faithful flames approve,
With pity view the fair.
Restore my Peggy’s wonted charms,
Those charms so dear to me;
Oh! never rob them from those arms:
I’m lost, if Peggy die.
– New Words by Different Hands.