University of Virginia Library

Thyrsis, enamored of a maid,—
Fair Amaranth,—a trick essayed
To test the way her fancy ran;
And thus the simple swain began:
“O Amy! if you only knew,
And, like myself, could feel it too,
A certain malady that harms
Young fellows, while it sweetly charms,
I'm sure you 'd wish your gentle breast
Were of the same disease possest.
Its name you may have chanced to hear;
Pray let me breathe it in your ear,—
'T is Love! my darling!—that 's the word!”
“'T is one,” quoth she, “that I have heard,
And think it pretty; pray reveal
Exactly how it makes you feel;
And tell me plainly all the signs
By which its presence one divines.”
“Ah!” said the boy, “its very woes
Are ecstasies!—the patient goes
With laggard step and longing looks,
And murmurs love to babbling brooks,
And all the while, in every place,
Sees naught but one bewitching face!
There is a shepherd-lad—suppose—
Whom some sweet village maiden knows.
She fears to see him; yet would she,
If she might choose, no other see;
If she but hears his voice or name,
Her cheeks are flushed with scarlet flame;
At thought of him she heaves a sigh,
Yet cannot guess the reason why”—
“Nay,—stop!” cries Amaranth, “I ween
I know the malady you mean!
Although I did n't know its name,
I warrant, now, 't is just the same
As that (I hope it is n't wrong!)
I 've felt for Cledamant so long!”

MORAL.

Poor Thyrsis! He was not the first,
Nor yet the latest, who has shown
A rival's interest may be nursed
By one who seeks to serve his own!