A Pastoral, Written on the Death of Mr. C. Churchill and Mr. R. Lloyd

Jonny.
Ah! Robin hast thou heard the news?
Our blithest swain is dead,
The greatest fav'rite of the Muse
Is in the Church-yard laid.

Robin.
Thou dost not sure, my Charley mean,
My true and faithful friend?
If so, alas! my woes again
Will never have an end.

Jonny.
I wou'd it were not him indeed,
I'm griev'd the news to tell,
I know thy honest heart will bleed,
Thou lov'd the swain so well.

Robin.
Ah! woe is me, what shall I do!
I can no more survive,
Thy words have cut my life-string thro',
Thro' him alone I live.

Jonny.
Nay, do not go and leave me too,
To wander here alone,
To sit beneath the church-yard Yew,
To weep beside thy stone.

Robin.
Alas! kind youth, alas I die,
My eyes begin to fade,
I soon shall with my Charley lie,
Beneath the Yew-tree shade.

Jonny.
Ah! most distress'd and wretched me,
To live to see this day,
I'll set beneath some gloomy tree,
And sigh my soul away.

Robin.
Nay, pray thee live, thou worthy swain,
And hope a better day,
Let not my lambs die on the plain,
When I am turn'd to clay.