[IV. Young Thyrsis with sighs often tells me his Tale]
1.
Young
Thyrsis with sighs often tells me his Tale,
And artfully strives o'er my heart to prevail,
He sings me love-songs as we trace thro' the Grove,
And on each fair Poplar hangs sonnets of love.
Tho' I often smile on him to soften his pain,
(For wit I would have to embellish my train)
I still put him off, for I have him so fast,
I know he with joy will accept me at last.
2.
Among the gay Tirbe that still flatter my pride,
There's Cloddy is handsome, and wealthy beside;
With such a gay partner more joys I can prove
Than to live in a Cottage with Thyrsis on love.
Tho' the Shepherd is gentle, yet blame me who can,
Since wealth, and not manners, 'tis now makes the man.
But should I fail here, and my hopes be all past,
Fond Thyrsis I know will accept me at last.
3.
Thus Delia enliven'd the grove with her strain,
When Thyrsis, the Shepherd, came over the plain;
Bright Chloris he led, whom he'd just made his bride,
Joy shone in their eyes, as they walk'd side by side;
She scorn'd each low cunning, nor wish'd to deceive,
But all her delight was sweet pleasure to give.
In wedlock she chose to tye the Swain fast,
For Shepherds will change if put off to the last.
