Her sheep had in clusters crept close…

Her sheep had in clusters crept close to a grove, To hide from the heat of the day; And Phillis herself, in a woodbine alcove, Among the sweet violets lay. A young lambkin, it seems, had been stolen from its dam, ('Twixt Cupid and Hymen a plot) That Corrydon might, as he search'd for his lamb, Arrive at the critical spot.

As through the green hedge for his lambkin he peeps, He saw the fair nymph with surprise; Ye gods, if so killing, he cry'd, while she sleeps, I'm lost if she opens her eyes; To tarry much longer would hazard my heart, I'll homeward my lambkin to trace; But in vain honest Corrydon strove to depart, For love held him last to the place.

Cease, cease, pretty bird, what a chirping you keep, I think you too loud on the spray; Don't you see, foolish lark, that the charmer's asleep, You'll wake her as sure as 'tis day. Ho dare the fond butterfly touch the sweet maid, Her cheeks he mistakes for the rose; I'd put him to death if I was not afraid, My boldness would break her repose.

Then Phillis look'd up with a languishing smile, Kind shepherd, said she, you mistake; I laid myself down for to rest me awhile, But trust me I've long been awake. The shepherd took courage, advanc'd with a bow, He plac'd himself down by her side; And manag'd the matter I cannot tell how, But yesterday made her his pride.