Strephon and Cloris,
OR,
The Coy Shepherd and Kind Shepherdess
He's fearful that his Flocks should go astray
And from her kind embraces would away,
But she with loving charms doth him so fetter
That for to stay he finds it much the better:
When flock & herds , & all concerns do fail,
Love must be satisfi'd, and will prevail.
To a pleasant New P lay-house Tune, Or, Love will find out the way
This may be Printed, R. P
Behold dread Cupid , with his Golden Dart,
A nd bended Bow, doth pierce each Shepherds heart
Witness here Strephon yields to Loves Essays,
His Head being Crown'd with never fading Bays.
|
A H, Cloris awake,
|
it is all abroad day,
|
If you sleep any longer,
|
our Flocks they will stray:
|
Lye still my dear Shepherd,
|
and do not rise yet,
|
For it is a cold windy morning,
|
and besides it is wet.
|
My Cloris make haste;
|
for it is no such thing
|
Our time we do waste,
|
for the Lark is on Wing:
|
Besides I do fancy
|
I hear the young Lambs,
|
Cry ba, ba, ba, ba,
|
for the loss of their Dams.
|
M Y Shepherd I come,
|
though I'm all over sorrow
|
But I swear i'le not love you,
|
if you rise so to morrow;
|
For methinks it's unkind,
|
thus early to rise,
|
And not bid me good morrow,
|
brings tears from my eyes.
|
O hark my dear Cloris ,
|
before thou shalt weep,
|
I'le stay to embrace thee,
|
neglecting my sleep:
|
My Flocks they may wander
|
one hour two, or three,
|
But if I loose thy favour,
|
I ruin'd shall be.
|
I joy my dear Shepherd,
|
to hear thee say so,
|
It eases my heart of
|
much Sorrow and woe:
|
And for thy reward
|
I will give thee a kiss,
|
And then thou shalt taste
|
of a true Lovers bliss.
|
But Cloris behold how
|
bright Pheebus his beams,
|
Invites us to go
|
to the murmuring streams:
|
I hear the brave Huntsman
|
doth follow the cry,
|
And makes the Woods ring,
|
yet how sluggish am I.
|
The Hounds and the Huntsman
|
may follow the Chase,
|
Whilst we enjoy pleasure
|
in a far better place:
|
Thou know'st my dear shepherd,
|
there is no delight,
|
Like Lovers enjoyment
|
from morning till night.
|
Alas my dear Cloris ,
|
what dost thou require,
|
The care of my Flocks
|
doth abate my desire
|
The Lambs are new, Yeaned
|
and tender for prey
|
And I fear the slye Woolf
|
she should bear them away.
|
My love do not fear it,
|
the Woolf he is Fled,
|
To take up his Lodging
|
in his Mossy Bed;
|
Then let me embrace thee,
|
whilst we do agree,
|
And I promise to go,
|
thou shalt after be free.
|
Ah! Cloris , thy words
|
are so powerful to me,
|
That I could be willing
|
to tarry with thee;
|
Therefore to content thee,
|
one hour I will stay,
|
But I vow by God C upid
|
I will then go away.
|
Now I have my wishes,
|
dear Shepherd we'l part,
|
Although thou dost carry
|
away my poor heart;
|
I bless the great Gods
|
that to Lovers are kind,
|
To bring us together,
|
such bliss for to find.
|
Then farewell dear Cloris ,
|
till I see thee again,
|
For now I will haste to
|
my Flocks on the Plain;
|
Where I shall record
|
thy true Love in such Rhimes,
|
For Shepherds to admire
|
in succeeding times.
|
|
|
|
|
|