The Miller from a Market Town hard by,
Brought home a sturdy Youth his strength to try,
To raise the sluice-gates early every morn,
To heave his powder'd sacks and grind his corn:
And meeting Phoebe, whom he lov'd so dear,
‘ I've brought you home a Husband, Girl?— D'ye hear?
He begg'd for work; his money seem'd but scant:
Those that will work‘ tis pity they should want.
So use him well, and we shall shortly see
Whether he merits what I've done, like thee.’
Now throbb'd her heart,— a new sensation
Whene'er the comely Stranger was in right:
For he at once assiduously strove.
To please so sweet a Maid, and win her love.
At every corner stopp'd her in her way;
And saw fresh beauties opening ev'ry day;
He took delight in tracing in her face
The mantling blush, and every nameless grace,