Colin's Complaint. I. Y Time, O ye Mufes, was happily spent, When PHEBE went with me where-ever I went; M Breaft; Ten thousand fweet Pleasures I felt in my Sure never fond Shepherd like COLIN was bleft! II. With fuch a Companion, to tend a few Sheep, To rife up and play, or to lye down and Sleep, gay, I was so good-humour'd, fo chearful and My Fair one is gone, and my Joys are all drown'd, And my Heart---I am fure weighs more than a Pound, III. The Fountain that wont to run sweetly along, Muft you be fo chearful, while I go in Pain? Peace there with your Bubbling, and hear me complain IV.. When 'my Lambkins around me would oftentime play, And when P HE BE and I were as joyful as they, How pleasant the Sporting, how happy the Time, When Spring, Love and Beauty were all in their Prime ≥ · I fling at their Fleeces a handful of Grass; To fee you fo merry, while I am so fad. ས. My Dog I was ever well pleased to fee VI. my When walking with PHEBE, what Sights have I feen? How fair was the Flow'r, how fresh was the Green? What a lovely Appearance the Trees and the Shade, The Corn-Fields and Hedges, and ev'ry Thing made? But now fhe has left me, tho' all are ftill there, They none of 'em now fo delightful appear: 'Twas nought but the Magick, I find, of her Eyes, Made fo many beautiful Prospects arise. VII. Sweet Mufick went with us both all the Wood thro', The Lark, Linnet, Throftle, and Nightingale too; Winds over us whisper'd, Flocks by us did bleat, VIII. Rofe, what is become of thy delicate Hue? Does ought of its Sweetnefs the Blossome beguile, And made your felves fine for; a Place in her Breaft: IX. How flowly Time creeps, till my PHEBE return? While amidst the soft Zephyrs cool Breezes I burn; Methinks, if I knew whereabouts he would tread, I could breathe on his Wings, and 'twould melt down the Lead. Fly fwifter ye Minutes, bring hither my Dear, And reft fo much longer for't when she is here. Ah, Ah, COLIN! old TIM E is full of Delay, Nor will budge one Foot fafter for all thou can't say. X.. Will no pitying Pow'r, that hears me complain, To be cur'd, thou must, COLIN, thy Paffion remove, Ah! what fhall I do? I fhall die with Despair, Take heed, all ye Swains, how ye love one fo Fair. 涨涨淡淡 SHUFF |