THE LITTLE SHEPHERDESS.
PASTORELLE.
Little lamb, I pray O come to me,
None to caress and love have I but thee.
Why art thou not some tender shepherd swain,
Then loving thee would ease my weary pain.
My sister Susan, she is fair and tall,
And she may choose among the shepherds all,
And she is called sweet names—my dear, my pet;
Ah me! I’m brown, and I’m too little yet.
Then stepping forth from a concealing shade,
A youth beyond compare approached the maid,
And, whisp’ring softly in her startled ear,
She heard the tender words, “My pet, my dear.”
She blushing stood, confused with downcast eyes,
But heart and face were filled with glad surprise;
And happier far than Susan tall and fair,
The little nut-brown maiden trembling there.