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you my paffion reprove ?
Why term it a folly to grieve ? Ere I shew you the charms of my love,
She is fairer than you can believe. With her mien she enamours the brave;
With her wit she engages the free; With her modesty pleases the grave;
She is ev'ry way pleasing to me.
that have been of her train, Come and join in my amorous lays ; I could lay down my life for the fwain,
That will fing but a song in her praise. When he sings, may the nymphs of the town
Come trooping, and listen the while ; Nay on him let not PHYLLIDA frown ;
But I cannot allow her to smile.
For when PARIDEL tries in the dance
Any favour with Phyllis to find, O how, with one trivial glance,
Might she ruin the peace of my mind!
In ringlets he dresses his hair,
And his crook is be-studded around; And his pipe-oh may Phyllis beware
Of a magic there is in the sound.
'Tis his with mock paffion to glow;
'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, How her face is as bright as the snow,
And her bosom, be sure, is as cold : How the nightingales labour the strain,
With the notes of his charmer to vie ; How they vary their accents in vain,
Repine at her triumphs, and die.
To the grove or the garden he strays,
And pillages every sweet;
He throws it at Phyllis's feet.
More sweet than the jessamin's flow'r !
What is eglantine, after a show'r ?
Then the lily no longer is white;
Then the violets die with despight,
And the woodbines give up their perfume. Thus glide the foft 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 Phyllis the trophy despise;
So they shine not in Phyllis's eyes.
Is a stranger to PARIDEL's tongue ; Yet may
she beware of his art, Or sure I must envy the song.
E shepherds give ear to my lay,
And take no more heed of my sheep : They have nothing to do, but to stray ;
I have nothing to do, but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove;
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;
Perhaps it was plain to foresee, That a nymph so compleat would be sought,
· By a swain more engaging than me. Ah ! love ev'ry hope can inspire :
It banishes wisdom the while ;
Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile.
She is faithless, and I am undone ;
Ye that witness the woes I endure, Let reason instruct you to fhun
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.
Alas! from the day that we met,
What hope of an end to my woes ?
diminish the pain : The flower, the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,
In time may have comfort for me.
The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,
The sound of a murmuring stream, The peace which from solitude flows,
Henceforth shall be CORYDON's theme. High transports are shewn to the fight,
But we are not to find them our own; Fate never bestow'd such delight,
As I with my PHYLLIS had known.
O ye woods, spread your branches apace ;
To your deepest receffes I fly;
I would vanish from every eye.
reed shall resound thro' the grove With the fame fad complaint it begun ; How she smil'd, and I could not but love ;
Was faithless and I am undone !