Classic Poem

As t'other day young Damon past,
Where Chloe sat demure,
He dost his hat, and sigh'd and gaz'd,
'Twas love that struck him sure.
With reverence then approach'd the fair,
Which she seem'd very shy at;
And when he prais'd her shape and air,
Cry'd, prithee, Sir, be quiet.

My fair, he cry'd, O be not coy,
Nor think my meaning rude;
Let love like mine thy mind employ,
True love can ne'er intrude,
Her hand he then essay'd to kiss,
Which, frowning, she cry'd fye at;
And when he struggled for the bliss,
She said, I pray be quiet!

Then kneeling at her feet he swore,
Without her he should die,
That man ne'er lov'd a woman more;
Then heav'd a melting sigh!
Cupid unseen now touch'd her breast,
And there stirr'd up a riot,
Much soften'd, yet she still exprest,
O! prithee, Sir, be quiet.

The youth perceived her alter'd tone,
And boldly ask'd her hand,
Soon Hymen made them both as one,
United hand in hand.
The case too soon is alter'd quite,
A scene you'll all cry fye at;
She prates away from morn to night,
While he cries, pray be quiet.