[6]
Since Phillis vouchſaf'd me a look,
I never once dreamt of my vine:
May I loſe both my pipe and my crook,
if I knew of a kid that was mine.
I prize 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 languiſh in vain?
why wander thus penſively 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 that 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 ſaw 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 bade 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.
