Once in these groves divine Aurelia stray'd!—
Then, conscious nature, smiling, look'd more gay;
But soon she left the dear delightful shade,
The shade, neglected, droops and dies away,
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And pines for her return, but pines in vain,
In distant isles belov'd Aurelia died,
Pride of the plains, ador'd by every swain,
Sweet warbler of the woods, and of the woods the pride.
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Philander early left this rural maid,
Nor yet return'd, by fate compell'd to roam,
But absent from the heavenly girl he stray'd,
Her charms forgot, forgot his native home.
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O fate severe, to seize the nymph so soon,
The nymph, for whom a thousand shepherds sigh,
And in the space of one revolving moon
To doom the fair one and her swain to die!
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Sweet, spungy plumbs on trees wide spreading hang,
Bell-apples here, suspended, shade the ground,
Plump grenadilloes and güavas grey,
With melons in each plain and lawn abound.
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