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PASTORALS.
ROBIN.
Does she droop, the little thing ?
Paler is she, too.
Robin, man, you are but dull,
Know not how to woo ;
Tis of old the lover's part
Tenderly to sue.
Softly dropped her little hand
Down among the leaves ;
Such a weary fall it had,
As of one that grieves !
Then my heart leapt up as one
That, at last, believes.
Does she leave me ? be it so,
I will not forsake.
Does she spurn me ? better so,
Than two hearts should break.
Here unto her feet I go,
My petition take.
