Air—in the Shepherd's Artifice

Ye flowers that bloom in yonder mead, Where flows the crystal tide, And nibling lambkins sportive feed Along the current's side, Ye oft have seen, and smil'd to see, My love to him, his love to me.

Witness ye flocks, ye herds, ye fawns, That o'er the pastures stray, Witness, ye mountains, groves, and lawns, Each painted child of May: The greatest bliss I ere can prove Is to return my shepherd's love.