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5
THE DESPAIRING GOATHERD.
The fleeting joys of love
But one short moment last;
In pains do constant prove,
Till life’s last moment’s past.
For Sylvia, cruel fair!
The pride of all the vale#
I’ve left my goats and kids,
To stray o’er hill and dale
But she, ungrateful maid!
Heeds not thy tender sighs;
My proffer’d love she scorns,
And to another flies.
The fleeting joys of love, &c.
The maiden-oft’ would vow
Her flame should ardent burn,
While this pure stream should flow,
My fondness she’d return;
My passion’s still the same,
The water still does flow;
