The Lay Of Poor Louise

Ah, poor Louise! the livelong day     She roams from cot to castle gay;     And still her voice and viol say,     Ah, maids, beware the woodland way,     Think on Louise.     Ah, poor Louise! The sun was high,     It smirch'd her cheek, it dimm'd her eye,     The woodland walk was cool and nigh,     Where birds with chiming streamlets vie     To cheer Louise.     Ah, poor Louise! The savage bear     Made ne'er that lovely grove his lair;     The wolves molest not paths so fair,     But better far had such been there     For poor Louise.     Ah, poor Louise! In woody wold     She met a huntsman fair and bold;     His baldric was of silk and gold,     And many a witching tale he told     To poor Louise.     Ah, poor Louise! Small cause to pine     Hadst thou for treasures of the mine;     For peace of mind that gift divine,     And spotless innocence, were thine,     Ah, poor Louise!     Ah, poor Louise! Thy treasure's reft!     I know not if by force or theft,     Or part by violence, part by gift;     But misery is all that's left     To poor Louise.     Let poor Louise some succour have!     She will not long your bounty crave,     Or tire the gay with warning stave,     For Heaven has grace, and earth a grave,     Poor poor Louise.