University of Virginia Library


378

THE INCONSTANT.

The sigh of her heart was sincere,
When blushing, she whisper'd her love;
A sound, how divine, in my ear,
For her voice was the voice of the dove.
Ah! who could from Phillida fly?
Yet I sought other nymphs of the vale,
Forgot both her blush and her sigh,
Nay, forgot that I told her my tale.
In sorrow I wish'd to return,
And the tale of my passions renew;
‘False shepherd,’ she answer'd with scorn,
‘False shepherd, for ever adieu!
‘For thee, no more tears will I shed,
To Truth and sweet friendship I go;
The bird by a wound that has bled
Is happy to fly from his foe.’