Eclogue. Night. Despair

His sportive lambs repos'd in gentle rest, Thus Daphnis sung the sorrows of his breast— "Ah me! the day—when o'er the jocund green "Daphnis the first to lead the dance was seen..... "On blythesome reed the frolic round I play'd, "Envy'd by swains, admir'd by ev'ry maid; "To list my strains my lambs have left their food, "And fondly seem'd to say my strains were good— "Oh! they were sweet—my pipe was tun'd to love, "And Hebe's name made vocal ev'ry grove. "Those joys are past—no more the tinkling stream "Shall stay its course to dwell on that lov'd name; "No more the vale my merry notes shall hear...... "Far other feelings wait upon despair. "Hebe, how oft I've brush'd the glist'ring dew, "And pluck'd the pride of vernal morns for you!— "The virgin Lily, with the blushing Rose, "And blue-ey'd Vi'let for your wreath I chose, "And, while I bound it on your temples, stole "Kisses that thrill'd with rapture to my soul!— "Am I not now as fair as when you said "A lovelier youth ne'er bless'd a happy maid? "Alas! some other swain has caught your eye— "He cannot be so true, so fond as I. "Unmov'd cou'd Daphnis hear his Hebe moan! "No—He'd bewail her sorrows as his own; "On the green turf he'd seat him by his dear, "Give for each look, a sigh—each sigh, a tear; "The lovely mourner to his bosom press, "Partake the cause, and lessen her distress...... "But wherefore witless do I thus complain? "Relentless Hebe laughs at all my pain— "Why wake my lambkins?—Sure they cannot know, "They heed not, feel not for their master's woe. "Some happier youth at dawn with careful crook "Shall guide you bleeting to the limpid brook; "Shall tend a-field the fleecy flocks I bred, "Pride of the vale, and riches of the mead— "My Friends, my Father, and my native Home, "This tear is yours—to distant plains I roam— "A dieu the well-known rill, the field, the grove!— "Absence perhaps may soothe the pangs of Love." Night check'd her yoke to hear the artless swain, And wept that faithful Love should love in vain.