The Galloway shepherds/I fear it is love

I FEAR it is LOVE.

WHy heaves my fond bosom? what can it mean!
⁠Why flutters my heart which was once so serene?
Why this sighing & trembling when Daphne is near?
Or why, when she’s absent, this sorrow and fear?

⁠For ever, methinks, I with wonder could trace,
The thousand soft charms that embelish thy face:
Each moment I view thee, new beauties I find,
With thy face I am charm’d, but enslav’d by thy mind.

⁠Untainted with folly, unsullied by pride.
There native good humour, and virtue reside:
Pray heaven that virtue thy soul may supply
With compassion for him, who without thee must die.

FINIS.