1 Thyrsis, a young and amorous swain,
Saw two, the beauties of the plain;
Who both his heart subdue:
Gay Cælia's eyes were dazzling fair,
Sabina's easy shape and air
With softer magic drew.
2 He haunts the stream, he haunts the grove,
Lives in a fond romance of love,
And seems for each to die;
Till each, a little spiteful grown,
Sabina Cælia's shape ran down,
And she Sabina's eye.
3 Their envy made the shepherd find
Those eyes, which love could only blind;
So set the lover free:
No more he haunts the grove or stream,
Or with a true-love knot and name
Engraves a wounded tree.
4 Ah, Cælia! (sly Sabina cried)
Though neither love, we're both denied;
Now, to support the sex's pride,
Let either fix the dart.
Poor girl! (says Caelia) say no more;
For should the swain but one adore,
That spite which broke his chains before,
Would break the other's heart.
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1 My days have been so wondrous free,
The little birds that fly
With careless ease from tree to tree,
Were but as bless'd as I.
2 Ask gliding waters, if a tear
Of mine increased their stream?
Or ask the flying gales, if e'er
I lent one sigh to them?
3 But now my former days retire,
And I'm by beauty caught,
The tender chains of sweet desire
Are fix'd upon my thought.
4 Ye nightingales! ye twisting pines!
Ye swains that haunt the grove!
Ye gentle echoes! breezy winds!
Ye close retreats of lore!