It was near a thickets calm retreat,
Under a poplar tree
Maria chose her wretched seat,
To mourn her sorrows free.
Her lovely form was sweet to view,
As dawn at opening day
But ah! she mourned her love untrue,
And wept her cares away.
The brook flowed gently at her feet,
In murmur smooth a long!
Her pipe which once she tuned most sweet,
Had now forgot its song.
No more to charm the vale she tries,
For grief has filled her breast
Those joys which once she used to prize,
But loved has robbed her rest.
Poor hapless maid who can behold,
Thy sorrows so severe
And hear thy lovelorn story told,
Without a falling tear.
Maria luckless maid adieu,
Thy sorrows soon must cease!
For heaven will take a maid so true,
To everlasting peace.