The Responsive Dove

Young Phillis over-night had been, To dance upon the rural green, And while she mingl'd with the swains, Assembl'd from the neighb'ring plains, The envy'd partner which she chose, Was Thyrsis, first of village beaus; As accidents oft come by chance, They both were wounded in the dance.

Each found within the troubl'd breast A pain that would not let them rest; She to the wood sequester'd stray'd, And in the gloomy shelt'ring shade, Said to herself, in accents low, What can it be disturbs me so? When o'er her head, a list'ning dove, Responsive cry'd—fair maid 'tis love.

When Thyrsis heard she'd left her home, Resolv'd with hasty steps to roam, And with an ardent lover's faith, He sought each wood's remotest path, Until he found his Phillis dear, Who wond'ring cry'd—What brought you here? When straight reply'd the pensive dove, What should it be fair maid but love?