Transcribed from a Bodleian Library broadside, catalog no. Harding B 25(165).

THE BELFAST MAID
(between 1821 and 1850)

In Belfast town of high renown there lives comely maid.
Perfect, complete, and consummate, she has my heart betrayed.
She far outshines the morning star, or the moon that rules the night.
First when I saw that damsel fair, I was deprived of my senses quite.

Diana fair could not compare, nor Venus from the tide,
Nor Dido sure, that virgin pure that for Anias died.
There's none so fair nor can compare to that damsel of renown.
Had I command of all the land, my love should wear the crown.

I stood amazed and on her gazed, in contemplation fair.
At length I roved within the grove, and to her I did draw near.
"Are you a maid," to her I said, "or mistress of this grove,
Or Thetis bright that yields delight, that from the seas had roved?"

Like an organ sweet, mild and discreet I unto her did say,
"Could you forsake those pleasant plains, and come along with me,
Where my habitation you may view, down by yon valley side,
Where purling streams does gently flow, and runs clear on every side?"

With great disdain she crossed the plain, and left me there alone.
The small birds joined their melody, lamenting my sad moan,
Saying, "Arise, young man. I pray march on. Your heart it is betrayed,
And do not blame that charming dame. She was before engaged."

So then I fancied in my mind, to what these small birds said,
How they advised me to go home and leave these pleasant shades.
So home I went with discontent. My heart overflows with care.
You powers divine with me combine, and free me from despair!

So now I wander all alone, down by that flowing tide,
Since that angel bright, my heart's delight, refused to be my bride.
Each night I dream, rave and complain, and cannot find no rest,
For the pain I endure no man can cure. It lies within my breast.