I seldom have met with a loss, Such health do my fountains bestow : My fountains all border'd with moss, Where the hare-bells and violets grow. Not a pine in my grove is there seen, But a sweet-brier entwines it around. One would think she might like to retire To prune the wild branches away. From the plains, from the woodlands and groves, From thickets of roses that blow! In a concert so soft and so clear, As she may not be fond to resign. I have found out a gift for my fair; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed: But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 't was a barbarous deed. For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd, Who would rob a poor bird of its young: And I lov'd her the more when I heard Such tenderness fall from her tongue. I have heard her with sweetness unfold And she call'd it the sister of love. Can a bosom so gentle remain Unmov'd when her Corydon sighs? Will a nymph that is fond of the plain, These plains and this valley despise ? Dear regions of silence and shade! Soft scenes of contentment and ease! Where I could have pleasingly stray'd, If aught, in her absence, could please. But where does my Phyllida ŝtray? And where are her grots and her bowers? Are the groves and the valleys as gay, And the shepherds as gentle as ours? The groves may perhaps be as fair, III. SOLICITUDE. WHY will you my passion reprove? With her mien she enamours the brave; O you that have been of her train, - But I cannot allow her to smile. For when Paridel tries in the dance Might she ruin the peace of my mind! And his crook is bestudded around; And his pipe- oh my Phyllis, beware Of a magic there is in the sound. "T is his with mock passion to glow, To the grove or the garden he strays, Then, suiting the wreath to his lays, He throws it at Phyllis's feet. "O Phyllis," he whispers, more fair, More sweet than the jessamine's flower! What are pinks in a morn to compare? What is eglantine after a shower? "Then the lily no longer is white; The rose is depriv'd of its bloom; Then the violets die with despite, And the woodbines give up their perfume." Thus glide the soft numbers along, And he fancies no shepherd his peer; -Yet I never should envy the song, Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear. Let his crook be with hyacinths bound, So they shine not in Phyllis's eyes. The language that flows from the heart, IV. DISAPPOINTMENT. YE shepherds, give ear to my lay, She was fair and my passion begun ; She smil'd-and I could not but love; She is faithless- and I am undone. Perhaps I was void of all thought: That a nymph so complete would be sought, And the lip of the nymph we admire She is faithless, and I am undone ; Let reason instruct you to shun What it cannot instruct you to cure. Beware how you loiter in vain Amid nymphs of a higher degree: It is not for me to explain How fair, and how fickle they be. |