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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
Pastoral Ballad
By William Shenstone (1714–1763)
 
SINCE Phyllis vouchsafed me a look,
  I never once dreamt of my vine:
May I lose both my pipe and my crook,
  If I knew of a kid that was mine!
I prized every hour that went by,        5
  Beyond all that had pleased me before;
But now they are past, and I sigh;
  And I grieve that I prize them no more.
 
But why do I languish in vain;
  Why wander thus pensively here?        10
Oh! why did I come from the plain
  Where I fed on the smiles of my dear?
They tell me my favorite maid,
  The pride of that valley, is flown:
Alas! where with her I have strayed,        15
  I could wander with pleasure alone.
 
When forced the fair nymph to forego,
  What anguish I felt at my heart!
Yet I thought—but it might not be so—
  ’Twas with pain that she saw me depart.        20
She gazed as I slowly withdrew,—
  My path I could hardly discern:
So sweetly she bade me adieu,
  I thought that she bade me return.
 
The pilgrim that journeys all day        25
  To visit some far distant shrine,
If he bear but a relic away
  Is happy, nor heard to repine.
Thus widely removed from the fair
  Where my vows, my devotion, I owe,—        30
Soft Hope is the relic I bear,
  And my solace wherever I go.
 
 
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