 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
82
THE Slighted SWAIN SONG.
Fast by a soft prattling Stream,
Where Willows and Osiers do grow,
Pastora's false Vows were the Theme,
Whilst Colinet pour'd out his Woe:
The Breeze, that blew whisp'ring along,
To the Shepherd's Complaining reply'd,
When thus the deplorable Song
Ran murmuring down with the Tide.
Where Willows and Osiers do grow,
Pastora's false Vows were the Theme,
Whilst Colinet pour'd out his Woe:
The Breeze, that blew whisp'ring along,
To the Shepherd's Complaining reply'd,
When thus the deplorable Song
Ran murmuring down with the Tide.
83
Was ever fond Shepherd so bless'd?
Was ever a Swain so forlorn?
As first to be fondly caress'd,
And then to be treated with Scorn:
The Turtle, that bills in the Grove,
And then is forsook by his Mate,
Was never so happy in Love,
Was never so wretched in Fate.
Was ever a Swain so forlorn?
As first to be fondly caress'd,
And then to be treated with Scorn:
The Turtle, that bills in the Grove,
And then is forsook by his Mate,
Was never so happy in Love,
Was never so wretched in Fate.
Look down then, false Nymph! on your Swain,
And pity a Comfortless Heart;
Look down then, but without Disdain,
And heal up a true Lover's Smart:
'Tis for You, that I rove up and down;
'Tis for You, that I mourn all the Day;
'Tis for You, that I leave the gay Town;
And in Woods rather choose for to stray.
And pity a Comfortless Heart;
Look down then, but without Disdain,
And heal up a true Lover's Smart:
'Tis for You, that I rove up and down;
'Tis for You, that I mourn all the Day;
'Tis for You, that I leave the gay Town;
And in Woods rather choose for to stray.
84
Sweet Nightingale! witness my Love,
Sweet Nightingale! hear me complain;
For you are forsook in the Grove,
And treated, like me, with Disdain:
I'll tell out my Grief to the Trees,
I'll tell it to e'ery clear Stream;
That the Rocks may sound forth, and the Breeze
To Pastora may waft off the Theme.
Sweet Nightingale! hear me complain;
For you are forsook in the Grove,
And treated, like me, with Disdain:
I'll tell out my Grief to the Trees,
I'll tell it to e'ery clear Stream;
That the Rocks may sound forth, and the Breeze
To Pastora may waft off the Theme.
She forgets, how I've spent the long Night
Dissolving to Rest in her Arms;
She forgets all the Lover's Delight;
She forgets, that she ever had Charms:
Ye Winds! let her know, how I love,
Let her know, what for her I can bear;
Let her know, how I live in the Grove,
And at Night how I sigh in the Air.
Dissolving to Rest in her Arms;
She forgets all the Lover's Delight;
She forgets, that she ever had Charms:
Ye Winds! let her know, how I love,
Let her know, what for her I can bear;
Let her know, how I live in the Grove,
And at Night how I sigh in the Air.
85
And can You, false Nymph! be so hard,
As not to be mov'd at my Grief?
And can Woman have no Regard
To a Swain, who implores for Relief?
Since You won't of my Anguish approve,
But slight me with Frowns, I'll give o'er;
Thro' the Woods and wild Desarts I'll rove,
And think of my Charmer no more.
As not to be mov'd at my Grief?
And can Woman have no Regard
To a Swain, who implores for Relief?
Since You won't of my Anguish approve,
But slight me with Frowns, I'll give o'er;
Thro' the Woods and wild Desarts I'll rove,
And think of my Charmer no more.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |