Nannette.
A Song.
I
Haste my Nannette, my lovely maid,
Haste to the bower, thy swain has made.
II
For thee alone I made the bower,
And strew'd the couch with many a flower.
III
None but my Sheep shall near us come,
Venus be prais'd, my sheep are dumb.
IV
Great God of love, take thou my crook,
To keep the wolf from Nannette's flock.
V
Guard thou the sheep, to her so dear,
My own, alas! are less my care.
VI
But of the wolf, if thou'rt afraid,
Come not to us to call for aid.
VII
For with her swain my love shall stay,
Tho' the wolf strole, and the sheep stray.
