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Ah lead forth my flock in the morn,
And the damps of each ev'ning repell;
I have bade my dear Phyllis farewell.
Beyond all that had pleas'd me before;
But why do I languish in vain?
Why wander thus penfively here?
The pride of that valley, is flown;
Yet I thought
but it might not be fo
'Twas with pain that she saw me depart.
She gaz'd, as I flowly withdrew;
My path I could hardly difcern;
I thought that the bade me return.
The pilgrim that journeys all day
Is happy, nor heard to repine. Thus widely remov'd from the fair,
Where my vows, my devotion, I owe, Soft hope is the relique I bear,
And folace wherever I go.
Y banks they are furnish'd with bees, Whofe murmur invites one to fleep; My grottos are shaded with trees,
And my hills are white-over with sheep.
I feldom 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 feen,
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound:
But a fweet-briar twines it around.
But I hafted and planted it there.
the wild branches away.
From the plains, from the woodlands and groves,
How the nightingales warble their loves
And when her bright form fhall appear,
In a concert fo foft and fo clear,
he may not be fond to refign.
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 fay 'twas a barbarous deed.
For he ne'er could be true, fhe aver'd,
Who could rob a poor bird of its young:
I have heard her with fweetnefs unfold
And the call'd it the fifter of love.
Can a bofom fo gentle remain
Unmov'd, when her Corydon fighs?
Soft fcenes of contentment and ease!
But where does my Phyllida ftray?
And the fhepherds as gentle as ours?
And the face of the valleys as fine; The fwains may in manners compare, But their love is not equal to mine. III. SOLICITUD E. I.
HY will you my paffion reprove? Why term it a folly to grieve? Ere I fhew you the charms of my love,
She is fairer than you can believe.