( 6 )
Since Phillis vouchſaſ’d me a look,
I never once dreamt of my vine:
May I loſe both my pipe and my crook,
if I knew a kid that was mine.
I priſ’d ev’ry hour that went by,
beyond all that 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 languifh in vain?
why wander thus penfively 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 the valley is flown;
Alas! where with her I have ſtray’d,
I could wander with pleaſure alone.
When forc’d the fair nymph to forgo,
what anguiſh I felt at my heart;
Yet I thought,— but it might not be ſo,
'twas with pain that ſhe bid 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 bad me return.
The pilgrim that journies all day,
to viſit ſome far diſtant ſhrine;
If he bear but a relique away,
is happy, nor heard to repine.
