A French Song

WHY thus from the Plain does my Shepherdess rove,
Forsaking Her swain, and neglecting His love ?
You have heard all my grief, you see how I die,
O ! give some relief to the swain whom you fly.
How can you complain, or what am I to say,
Since my dog lies unfed, and my sheep run astray ;
Need I tell what I mean, that I languish alone.
When I leave all the Plain, you may guess 'tis for One.