I in these flowery meads would be I never saw her face till now In vain you tell your parting lover I prythee send me back my heart I prythee leave this peevish fashion I rise from dreams of thee I sail'd from the Downs in the Nancy Is my lover on the sea I smile at love and all his arts I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name It is not that I love you less I told my nymph, I told her true I've pluck'd the woodbine and lilac so pale Know Celia since thou art so proud Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle M. Maid of my Love, sweet Genevieve Merciless love, whom Nature hath denied Mine be a cot beside the hill Mistaken fair, lay Sherlock by My days have been so wondrous free My goddess Lydia, heavenly fair N. No longer, Daphne I admire No more shall meads be deck'd with flowers Not the soft sighs of vernal gales 0. Oh! the moment was sad when my love and I parted She is not fair to outward view She walks in beauty, like the night Since sounding drums and rising war Since truth has left the shepherd's tongue |