Excerpt from Molly White: Or the Bride Bewitched, a Tale

Molly White.

For love her lips and coal-black eyes were made,
Her silver tresses on her shoulders stray'd,
Good-humour still fat smiling on her face,
She sung with sweetness as she danc'd with grace,
And when she spoke none thought she spoke too long,
Her speech was scarce less charming than her song.
In cotton dress'd each holy-day she shone,
At church all eyes were fix'd on her alone,
Where'er she went her company was fought,
Rich fairings too from all the fairs she brought,
Such precious gifts no other maid cou'd boast,
For Molly White was ev'ry shepherd's toast.

Now sixteen winters had run o'er her head,
And nature told her 'twas full time to wed:
No fond admirer durst her lips profane,
But her fair hand was squeez'd by ev'ry swain,
Love's milder joys thus gently warm'd her breast
And morning visions hinted all the rest.
Such dreams as griev'd or gave her heart delight
To her dear Bridget she reveal'd at night:

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