Colinet and Phebe

As Colinet and Phebe sat Beneath a poplar grove, With fondest truth the gentle youth Was telling tales of love.

Dear blooming maid, the shepherd said. My tender vows believe, These downcast eyes, and artless sighs Can ne'er thy faith deceive.

From fair to fair, tho some their are Delighting wild to rove; Such change thou ne'er from me can'st fear, Thy charms secure my love.

Then Phebe now approve my vow, By truth, by fondness prest; A smile assume, to grace thy bloom, And make thy shepherd blest.—

A blush o'er spread her cheek with red, Which half she turn'd aside: With pleasing woes her bosom rose While thus the maid reply'd:

Full well, dear youth, I know thy truth, And of thine arts to please: But ah is this a time for bliss, On things so soft as these?

While all around we hear no sound, But war's terrific strain: The drum commands our arming bands, And chides each tardy swain.

Our country's call arouses all Who dare be brave and FREE, My love shall crown the youth alone Who saves himself and me.

'Tis done, he cry'd, from thy dear side How quickly I'll be gone; From love will I to FREEDOM fly, A slave to thee alone.

And when I come with laurels home, And all that Freemen crave, To crown my love, thy smile shall prove The fair reward the brave.