Woes my heart that we shou’d sunder.
Sung by Peggy, p. 67.
SPeak on, – speak thus, and still my grief,
Hold up a heart that’s sinking under
These fears, that soon will want relief,
When Pate must from his Peggy sunder.
A gentler face and silk attire,
A lady rich in beauty’s blossom,
Alake poor me! will now conspire,
To steal thee from thy Peggy’s bosom.
No more the shepherd who excell’d
The rest, whose wit made them to wonder,
Shall now his Peggy’s praises tell,
Ah! I can die, but never sunder.
Ye meadows where we often stray’d,
Ye banks where we were wont to wander.
Sweet scented rucks round which we play’d,
You’ll loss your sweets when we’re asunder.
Again ah! shall I never creep
Around the know with silent duty,
Kindly to watch thee while asleep,
And wonder at thy manly beauty?
Hear, heaven, while solemnly I vow,
Tho’ thou shouldst prove a wandering lover,
Throw life to thee I shall prove true,
Nor be a wife to any other.