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With her mien she enamours the brave;
With her wit she engages the free;
Come and join in my amorous lays ;
That will sing but a song in her praise. When he sings, may the nymphs of the town,
Come trooping, and listen the while;
Any favour with Phyllis to find,
Might she ruin the peace of my mind! In ringlets He dresses his hair,
And his crook is be-studded around; And his pipe - oh may Phyllis beware
Of a magic there is in the found.
IV. 'Tis His with mock passion to glow;
'Tis His in smooth tales to unfold, “How her face is as bright as the snow,
" And her bosom, be sure, is as cold ; “ How the nightingales labour the strain,
With the notes of his charmer to vie:
And pillages every sweet;
He throws it at Phyllis's feet.
“More sweet than the jessamin's flow'r !
Then the rose is depriv'd of its bloom;
Thus glide the soft numbers along,
And he fancies no shepherd his peer j
So Phyllis the trophy defpife;
So they shine not in Phyllis's eyes.
Is a stranger to Paridel's tongue ;
The beware of his art,
And take no more heed of my sheep:
I have nothing to do, but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove;
She was fair and my passion begung She smild and I could not but love;
She is faithless and I am undone.
Perhaps it was plain to foresee,
By a swain more engaging than me.
It banishes wisdom the while ;
Ye that witness the woes I endure,
What it cannot instruct you to cure. Beware how
loiter in vain
What hope of an end to my woes?
diminish the pain :
The sound of a murmuring stream,
Henceforth shall be Corydon's theme,
But we are not to find them our own;
To your deepest receffes I Ay;
I would vanish from every eye. Yet my reed shall resound through the grove
With the same fad complaint it begun; How he smild, and I could not but love;
Was faithless, and I am undone!