  While larks with little wing Fann'd the pure air, Tasting the breathing spring, Forth I did fare: Gay the sun's golden eye Peep'd o'er the mountains high; 'Such thy morn,' did I cry, 'Phillis the fair!' In each bird's careless song Glad did I share; While yon wild flowers among, Chance led me there: Sweet to the opening day, Rosebuds bent the dewy spray; 'Such thy bloom,' did I say, 'Phillis the fair!' Down in a shady walk, Doves cooing were, I mark'd the cruel hawk Caught in a snare; So kind may Fortune be, Such make his destiny, He who would injure thee, Phillis the fair! |
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