Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, Whose flocks never carelessly roam;Should Corydon's happen to stray, Oh! call the poor wanderers home.Allow me to muse and to sigh, Nor talk of the change that ye find;None once was so watchful as I; I have left my dear Phillis behind.
Now I know what it is, to have strove With the torture of doubt and desire;What it is to admire and to love, And to leave her we love and admire,Ah, lead forth my flock in the morn, And the damps of each evening repel;Alas! I am faint and forlorn: -I have bade my dear Phillis farewell.
Since Phillis vouchsaf'd me a look, I never once dreamed of my vine;May I lose both my pipe and my crook, If I knew of a kid that was mine!I priz'd every hour that went by, Beyond all that had pleas'd me before;But now they are past, and I sigh; And I grieve that I priz'd them no more.
But why do I languish in vain; Why wander thus pensively here?Oh! why did I come from the plain, Where I fed on the smiles of my dear?They tell me, my favourite maid, The pride of that valley, is flown;Alas! where with her I have stray'd, I could wander with pleasure, alone.
When forc'd the fair nymph to forgo, What anguish I felt at my heart!Yet I thought-but it might not be so- 'Twas with pain that she saw me depart.She gaz'd, as I slowly withdrew: My path I could hardly discern;So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return.
The pilgrim that journeys all day To visit some far distant shrine,If he bear but a relique away, Is happy, nor heard to repine.Thus widely remov'd from the fair, Where my vows, my devotion, I owe,Soft hope is the relique I bear, And my solace wherever I go.
