"Nay, more, the hellish monster has invented,
"How a young swain on Shannon's banks yborn
"(Had not my care the deep-laid plot prevented)
"Would from my arms my Rosabel have born.
"Have I not cause to weep from rising morn
"'Till Phoebus welketh in the western main,
"To see my dearling's fame thus vildly torn?
"Have I not cause to nourish endless pain? "
At this he deeply sigh'd, and wept full sore again.