Ten anapestic quatrains signed "Amator, C—n, Dec. 12, 1774." A jealous lover addresses Phillis to warn her of the blandishments of Corydon: "The sheep that graze over my plain, | With Corydon's flock cannot vie; | You may find out a far richer swain, | But none that can love you like I." The poet promises to expire, either in ecstasy with Phillis, or in despair without her.
If ever you listen'd to love,
Ah! Phillis, but hear me complain,
The stream that flows by, and the grove,
Can witness the truth of my pain.
Reclin'd on the bank I have laid,
The stream glided softly along,
My pipe turn'd to love, I have play'd
The hills have re-echo'd my song.
But seeing no nymph on the plain,
My pipe I threw by on the ground,
Would Phillis attend to my strain,
My pipe should for ever resound.
Ah! Phillis, more bright than the day,
More innocent far than the dove,
Thy words such a sweetness convey,
I could listen for ever and love.
The sheep that graze over my plain,
With Corydon's flock cannot vie;
You may find out a far richer swain,
But none that can love you like I.
Beware of fond Corydon's art,
When he flatters or warbles his song,
Sincerity dwells in the heart,
And flows from its source to the tongue.
With softness he'll murmur his tale,
"How the rose with your charms cannot vie,
The lilies with envy turn pale,
Repine at your triumphs and die."
Let him flatter, and point out his pain,
If Phillis ne'er lends him an ear;
But should she attend to his strain,
Alas! I should die with despair.
Ah! Phillis, return then my love,
With a smile but attend to my tale,
My pipe should resound thro' the grove,
And tell all its joy to the vale.
Oh! could I be bless'd with thy charms,
'Tis all my fond wishes require;
One moment reclin'd in thine arms,
Enraptur'd I'd smile and expire.