Vauxhall Ballad

Time was, for oh there was a time,
Sweet Phoebe by my side,
The softest verse I sung in rhime,
Where falling pools did glide:
But, Phoebe hence, I'm left alone,
Nor verse nor rhime can please,
And pools stand still to see me moan,
In whispers through the trees.

The pride of laughing nature stood
In fertile heaths confessed,
When birds, in you impervious wood,
With Phoebe saw me blest.
But laughing nature's now in tears,
The heaths begin to mourn,
Birds hoot in my melodious ears,
For Phoebe's glad return.

To shun fierce sol's meridian heat,
Upon you verdant green,
How oft, at close of eve, I'd meet
Sweet Phoebe, beauty's queen:
But, lost the sunshine of her charms,
The verdant green's all brown,
And I, with nothing in my arms,
Lie hard on beds of down.

Then come sweet fair, and leave behind
All sorrow, pain, and woe,
The birds shall smile, and the north wind
Like Boreas gently blow:
So shall the daisy-mantling green,
The cowslip-studded brook,
In sable robes all crimson seen,
Refiect each azure look.