How long shall hapless Colin mourn

How long shall hapless Colin mourn The cold regard of Delia's eye? The heart whole only guilt is love, Can Delia's softness doom to die?

Sweet is thy name to Colin's ear, Thy beauties, ah! divinely bright— In one short hour, by Delia's side, I pass whole ages of delight.

Yet tho' I lov'd thee more than life, Not to displease a cruel maid, My tongue forbare its fondest tale, And murmur'd in the distant shade.

What happier shepherd has thy smile? A bliss for which I hourly pine; Some, swain, perhaps, whose fertile vale, Whose fleecy flocks are more than mine.

Few are the vales that Colin boasts, And few the flocks those vales that rove: I court not Delia's heart with wealth, A nobler bribe I offer—Love.

Yet, should the virgin yield her hand, And, thoughtless, wed for wealth alone— The act may make my bosom bleed, But surely cannot bless her own.

'TWAS at the cool and fragrant hour, When evening steals upon the sky, When lovers seek the silent bow'r, Young William taught the grove to sigh; His heav'nly form and beauteous air Were like the flow'ry vale, Yet did he sigh, and all for love Of Mary of the Dale.

When o'er the mountain peeps the dawn, Oppress'd with grief he'd often stray, O'er rising hill and fertile lawn, To sigh and weep his cares away: Tho' he had charms to win each fair, That dwells within the vale, Yet did he sigh, and all for love Of Mary of the Dale.

The merry dance, the cheerful song, Could now no more a charm impart: No more his hours glide smooth along, For grief lay heavy at his heart: This cheek, where health with beauty glow'd, Was like the primrose pale; Sighing, he died, and all for love Of Mary of the Dale.