A
SONG
.
I.
AWAY
,
let
nought
to
love
displeasing
My
Winifreda
,
move
thy
fear
,
Let
nought
delay
the
heav'nly
blessing
,
Nor
squeamish
pride
,
nor
gloomy
care
.
II
.
What
tho'
no
grants
of
royal
donors
With
pompous
titles
grace
our
blood
,
We'll
shine
in
more
substantial
honours
,
And
to
be
noble
we'll
be
good
.
III
.
What
tho'
from
Fortune's
lavish
bounty
No
mighty
treasures
we
possess
,
We'll
find
within
our
pittance
plenty
,
And
be
content
without
excess
.
IV
.
Still
shall
each
kind
returning
season
Sufficient
for
our
wishes
give
,
For
we
will
live
a
life
of
reason
,
And
that's
the
only
life
to
live
.
V.
Our
name
,
whilst
virtue
thus
we
tender
,
Shall
sweetly
sound
where'er
'tis
spoke
,
And
all
the
great
ones
much
shall
wonder
,
How
they
admire
such
little
folk
.
VI
.
Thro'
youth
and
age
in
love
excelling
,
We'll
hand
in
hand
together
tread
,
Sweet
smiling
Peace
shall
crown
our
dwelling
,
And
babes
,
sweet
smiling
babes
,
our
bed
.
VII
.
How
should
I
love
the
pretty
creatures
,
Whilst
round
my
knees
they
fondly
clung
,
To
see
'em
look
their
mother's
features
,
To
hear
'em
lisp
their
mother's
tongue
.
VIII
.
And
when
with
envy
Time
transported
Shall
think
to
rob
us
of
our
joys
,
You'll
in
your
girls
again
be
courted
,
And
I
go
wooing
in
my
boys
.