O Mollie, I would I possessed such a heart;
It enchants me-so gentle and true;
I would I possessed all its magical art,
Then, Mollie, I would enchant you.

Those dear, rosy lips-tho' I never caressed them(?)-
Are as sweet as the wild honey-dew;
Your cheeks-all the angels in Heaven have blessed them,
But not one is as lovely as you.

Then give me that heart,-O that innocent heart!
For mine own is cold and perdu;
It enchants me, but give me its magical art,
Then, Mollie, I will enchant you.