PASTORALS.
51
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The STRAY NYMPH.
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EASE your musick, gentle swains: Saw ye Delia cross the plains?
Every thicket, every grove,
Have I ranged, to find my love: 4
A kid, a lamb, my flock, I give,
Tell me only doth she live.
White her skin as mountain snow;
In her cheek the roses blow: 8
And her eye is brighter far
Than the beamy morning star.
When her ruddy lip ye view,
'Tis a berry moist with dew: 12
And her breath, Oh 'tis a gale
Passing o'er a fragrant vale,
Passing, when a friendly shower
Freshens every herb and flower. 16
Wide her bosom opens, gay
As the primrose-dell in May,
In her cheek the roses blow: 8
And her eye is brighter far
Than the beamy morning star.
When her ruddy lip ye view,
'Tis a berry moist with dew: 12
And her breath, Oh 'tis a gale
Passing o'er a fragrant vale,
Passing, when a friendly shower
Freshens every herb and flower. 16
Wide her bosom opens, gay
As the primrose-dell in May,
Sweet
