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Ah lead forth my flock in the morn,
And the damps of each ev’ning repell;
I never once dreamt of my vine ;
If I knew of a kid that was mine.
Beyond all that had pleas'd me before;
Why wander thus pensively here?
Where I fed on the smiles of my dear
The pride of that valley, is flown ;
What anguish I felt at my heart !
Yet I thought -- but it might not be fo —
'Twas with pain that she saw me depart. She gaz'd, as I Nowly withdrew;
My path I could hardly discern;
To visit fome far-distant shrine,
Is happy, nor heard to repine. Thus widely remov'd from the fair,
Where my vows, my devotion, I owe,
solace wherever I go.
Whose murmur invites one to sleep;
And my hills are white-over with sheep.
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound :
But a sweet-briar twines it around.
More charms than my cattle unfold :
To the bow'r I have labour'd to rear ;
But I hasted and planted it there.
With the lilac to render it gay!
What strains of wild melody flow?
From thickets of roses that blow!
And when her bright form shall appear,
Each bird shall harmoniously join
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed:
She will say 'twas a barbarous deed. For he ne'er could be true, she aver'd,
Who could rob a poor bird of its young:
How that pity was due to a dove :
And she call'd it the fifter of love.
So much I her accents adore,
Methinks I should love her the more.'
Can a bosom fo gentle remain
Unmov'd, when hèr Corydon fighs ?
These plains, and this valley despise ?
Soft scenes of contentment and ease!
And where are her grots and her bow'rs?
And the shepherds as gentle as ours?
And the face of the valleys as fine; .
Why term it a folly to grieve?