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FLORELIO.
For thee, lov'd Youth! on ev'ry vale and lawn 11
The nymphs and all thy fellow-shepherds moan:
The little birds now cease to sing and love,
Silent they sit and droop on ev'ry grove:
No mounting lark now warbles on the wing, 15
Nor linnets chirp to cheer the sullen spring:
Only the melancholy turtles coo,
And Philomel by night repeats her woe.
O, charmer of the shades! the tale prolong,
Nor let the morning interrupt thy song; 20
Or softly tune thy tender notes to mine;
Forgetting Tercus, make my sorrows thine.
Now the dear youth has left the lonely plain,
And is the grief, who was the grace, of ev'ry British swain.
Say, all ye Shades! where late he us'd to rest, 25
If e'er your beds with lovelier swain were prest?
Say, all ye silver Streams! if e'er ye bore
The image of so fair a face before?
But now, ye Streams! assist me whilst I mourn,
For never must the lovely swain return; 30
And as these flowing tears increase your tide,
O, murmur for the shepherd as ye glide!
Be sure, ye Rocks! while I my grief disclose,
Let your sad echoes lengthen out my woes:
Ye Breezes! bear the plaintive accents on, 35
And, whisp'ring, tell the woods Florelio's gone,
For ever gone, and left the lonely plain,
And is the grief, who was the grace, of ev'ry British swain.
The nymphs and all thy fellow-shepherds moan:
The little birds now cease to sing and love,
Silent they sit and droop on ev'ry grove:
No mounting lark now warbles on the wing, 15
Nor linnets chirp to cheer the sullen spring:
Only the melancholy turtles coo,
And Philomel by night repeats her woe.
O, charmer of the shades! the tale prolong,
Nor let the morning interrupt thy song; 20
Or softly tune thy tender notes to mine;
Forgetting Tercus, make my sorrows thine.
Now the dear youth has left the lonely plain,
And is the grief, who was the grace, of ev'ry British swain.
Say, all ye Shades! where late he us'd to rest, 25
If e'er your beds with lovelier swain were prest?
Say, all ye silver Streams! if e'er ye bore
The image of so fair a face before?
But now, ye Streams! assist me whilst I mourn,
For never must the lovely swain return; 30
And as these flowing tears increase your tide,
O, murmur for the shepherd as ye glide!
Be sure, ye Rocks! while I my grief disclose,
Let your sad echoes lengthen out my woes:
Ye Breezes! bear the plaintive accents on, 35
And, whisp'ring, tell the woods Florelio's gone,
For ever gone, and left the lonely plain,
And is the grief, who was the grace, of ev'ry British swain.
