1 At Palaiseau, there liv’d a maid,In form and features mild;The stings of conscience never prey’d,On this devoted child. 2 She serv’d a wealthy farmer there,An honest soul was he;Her comforts were his only care,And all he wish’d to see. 3 His wife was of another mould,And prematurely smart;Hasty, and rash, with that a scold,Yet still a feeling heart. 4 One summers eve’, her labor done,She sat in pensive... more...