Pastoral.

PASTORAL.

AS a shepherdess stray'd with her sheep, I listen'd, and this was her song: Not from Phillis her swain would I keep, I would rather thus wander alone.

To my friend let me try to return The swain — whom her fondness invites. Her crook with each flower I'll adorn, And teach her the song which he likes.

Yet l'm pleas'd with the tale I despise; As he whispers my looks are so fair. When the water reflects back my eyes I find I'm not equal to her.

By the brook! where the primroses grow, O could but those days now return! The sweetest she plac'd on my brow; Can I bear that my Phillis should mourn?

How harmless my flock as they feed! 'Tis time I were wearing them home; I long with my Phillis to meet, Since Corydon left her alone.

Though the plains and the nights are yet cold, We shall rise with the sun in the morn; When Corydon's flocks are unfold, No more shall his nymph be forlorn.

How they bleat! 'tis her lambkins I hear; As one of them stray'd from the rest, Unheeded she drops the soft tear, Unknowing her sorrow express'd.

Are the hills and the valleys less green? The shrub, or the sweet-briar not sweet? Because they are none of them mine, Ah! why should a shepherdess weep?