LONE in yon dark sequester'd grove,
Poor hapless Lubin strays ;
A prey to ill-requited love,
He spends his joyless days :
Ah ! cruel Jessie, couldst thou know
What worthy heart was thine,
Thou ne'er hadst wrong'd poor Lubin so,
Nor left that heart to pine.
Timid as a Lubin.—Said of a chicken-hearted person.—Ed.
[Semple 78]