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128

A FRENCH SONG.

I

Why thus from the Plain does my Shepherdess rove,
Forsaking Her swain, and neglecting His love?
You have heard all my grief, you see how I die,
O! give some relief to the swain whom you fly.

II

How can you complain, or what am I to say,
Since my dog lies unfed, and my sheep run astray;
Need I tell what I mean, that I languish alone,
When I leave all the Plain, you may guess 'tis for One.