Allow me to muse and to sigh, find; I have left my dear Phillis behind. Now I know what it is, to have strove With the torture of doubt and desire; What it is to admire and to love, And to leave her we love and admire. Ah! lead forth my flock in the morn, And the damps of each evening repel; Alas! I am faint and forlorn : -I have bade my dear Phillis farewell. Since Phillis vouchsaf'd me a look, I never once dreamt of my vine: Beyond all that had pleas d me before; But now they are past, and I sigh; And I grieve that I priz'd them no more. But why do I languish in vain ; Why wander thus pensively here? Oh! why did I come from the plain, Where I fed on the smiles of my dear? They tell me my favourite maid, The pride of that valley, is flown. Alas! where with her I have stray'd, I could wander with pleasure, alone. When forc'd the fair nymph to forego, What anguish I felt at my heart: Yet I thought-but it might not be so'Twas with pain that she saw me depart, She gaz'd, as I slowly withdrew; My path I could hardly discern; So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return. Thus widely remov'd from the fair, II. HOPE. My banks they are furnish'd with bees, And my hills are white over with sheep. 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 with tendrils of woodbine is bound: Not a beech's more beautiful green, But a sweet-briar entwines it around. Not my fields in the prime of the year, One would think she might like to retire To prune the wild branches away. From the plains, from the woodlands and groves, How the nightingales warble their loves In a concert so soft and so clear, 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 'twas a barbarous deed. 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 stray? And where are her grots and her bowers ? Are the and the vallies as gay, groves And the shepherds as gentle as ours? The groves may perhaps be as fair, And the face of the vallies as fine; The swains may in manners compare, But their love is not equal to mine. III. SOLICITUDE. WHY will you my passion reprove? With her mien she enamours the brave Oh you -But I cannot allow her to smile. And his crook is bestudded around; "Tis his with mock passion to glow, More sweet than the jessamine's flower! What are pinks in a morn, to compare? Then the lilly no longer is white; Then the violets die with despight, And the woodbines give up their perfume.” Thus glide the soft numbers along, Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear. Let his crook be with hyacinths bound, YE shepherds give ear to my lay, She was fair-and my passion begun; Perhaps I was void of all thought: That a nymph so complete would be sought She is faithless, and I am undone ; Ye that witness the woes I endure; Let reason instruct you to shun What it cannot instruct you to cure. Beware how you loiter in vain Amid nymphs of an higher degree: It is not for me to explain How fair, and how fickle, they be. |