The Maid and the Magpie
1At Palaiseau, there liv’d a maid,In form and features mild;The stings of conscience never prey’d,On this devoted child.2She serv’d a wealthy farmer there,An honest soul was he;Her comforts were his only care,And all he wish’d to see.3His wife was of another mould,And prematurely smart;Hasty, and rash, with that a scold,Yet still a feeling heart.4One summers eve’, her labor done,She sat in pensive plight;Watching the clear declining sun,With rapt’rous delight.
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