A Pastoral Ballad IV: Disappointment

Ye shepherds give ear to my lay, And take no more heed of my sheep: They have nothing to do but to stray; I have nothing to do but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove; She was fair -- and my passion begun; She smil'd -- and I could not but love; She is faithless -- and I am undone. Perhaps I was void of all thought: Perhaps it was plain to foresee, That a nymph so compleat would be sought By a swain more engaging than me. Ah! love ev'ry hope can inspire; It banishes wisdom the while; And the lip of the nymph we admire Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile. She is faithless, and I am undone; Ye that witness the woes I endure; Let reason instruct you to shun What it cannot instruct you to cure. Beware how you loiter in vain Amid nymphs of an higher degree: It is not for me to explain How fair, and how fickle they be. Alas! from the day that we met, What hope of an end to my woes? When I cannot endure to forget The glance that undid my repose. Yet time may diminish the pain: The flow'r, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain, In time may have comfort for me. The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose, The sound of a murmuring stream, The peace which from solitude flows, Henceforth shall be Corydon's theme. High transports are shewn to the sight, But we are not to find them our own; Fate never bestow'd such delight, As I with my Phyllis had known. O ye woods, spread your branches apace; To your deepest recesses I fly; I would hide with the beasts of the chace; I would vanish from every eye. Yet my reed shall resound thro' the grove With the same sad complaint it begun; How she smil'd, and I could not but love; Was faithless, and I am undone!