Merslækov.

FIRST VOICE. Thus the weeping shepherd spoke, While his heart with anguish broke, To the maiden of his bosom: It can never be! I shall see thee smile no more; Thou art rich, and I am poor: Leave me—be serene and happy— To my misery! SECOND VOICE. Then the youthful shepherdess Heaved a sigh for his distress, Gently utter’d, calm and sorrowing, It can never be? Thou art mine—for ever mine; What though poverty be thine? They who have love’s fount of riches Know no poverty! FIRST VOICE. I am of unhonour’d line, And the world alone—is mine: How the proud, and how the noble Will thy choice reprove! SECOND VOICE. Slander is their joy—they know Nothing of affection’s glow: Ancestry and pride I seek not— But I seek thy love! FIRST VOICE. Smiles and joy thy steps await:— Misery is at my gate: Tears are bitter—but most bitter Tears of penitence! SECOND VOICE. Unpartaken pleasure cloys, But divided woes are joys; Where our common tears are mingled Grief will fly from thence! FIRST VOICE. Corn-flowers and forget-me-not, And narcissus, ne’er I sought; Now I’ll seek the sweetest flow’rets For my smiling fair! SECOND VOICE. Strange a shepherd’s life to me, Yet a shepherdess I’ll be; Though my father’s rich, I’ll braid thee Garlands for thy hair! BOTH. Thou hast made life’s burthen lighter, Every star and flower is brighter; Now with thine my heart is blended, Every thought and breath! Tears and sorrow, if they come, Shall not wear the garb of gloom; Life with thee is crown’d with beauty— Beautiful is death!