Love is the cause of Mourning

By a murmering stream a fair shepherdess lay, Be so kind, O ye nymphs I oft-times heard her say, Tell Strephon, I die, if he passes this way, That Love was the cause of my mourning.

False shepherds, that tell me of beauty and charms, You deceive me, for Strephon's cold heart never warms; Yet bring me this Strephon, let me die in his arms? Oh! Strephon the cause of my mourning.

But first, said she, let me go down to the shades below, Ere ye let Strephon know that I have lov'd him so; Then on my pale cheek no blushes will show That Love was the cause of my mourning.

Her eyes were scarce closed when Strephon came by, He thought she'd been sleeping, and softly drew nigh, But finding her breathless, Oh heav'ns, did he cry, Ah! Chloris, the cause of my mourning.

Restore me my Chloris, ye nymphs use your art: They sighing reply'd, 'Twas yourself shot the dart, That wounded the tender young shepherdess' heart, And kill'd the poor Chloris with mourning.

Ah then is Chloris dead, Wounded by me! he said; I'll follow thee, chaste maid, Down to the silent shade: Then on her cold snowy breast leaning his head. Expir'd the poor Strephon with mourning.