This page has been validated.
97
The fair maiden straight donned her best array,
And forth to the festival hied away:
But scarce had she gone
Ere the storm came on,
And, 'mid thunder and rain,
She cried, oft and again,
"Oh! would I had minded yon boding flower,
And were safe at home from the pelting shower."
Now, maidens, the tale that I tell would say,
Don't don fine clothes on a doubtful day;
Nor ask advice, when, like many more,
Your resolve was taken some time before.
