English poem
THE CHARMS of MELODY, SONG 80
by Anonymous
Farewell, ye green fields, and sweet groves, Where Phillis engag'd my sond heart— Where nightingales warble their loves. And nature is dress'd without art.
No pleasure ye now can afford, Nor music can lull me to rest: For Phillis proves false to her word, And Strephon can never be blest.
Oft times, by the side of a spring, Where roses and lillies appear, Gay Phillis of Strephon would sing: For Strephon was all she held dear. But as soon as she found, by my eyes, The passion that glow'd in my breast, She then, to my grief and surprize, Prov'd all she had said was a jest.
Too late, to my sorrow, I find, The beauties alone that will last, Are those that are fix'd in the mind, Which envy or time cannot blast. Beware, then, beware how ye trust Coquettes, who to love make pretence; For Phillis to me had been just, If nature had blese'd her with sense,