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COLL1NET AND PHEBE.
Dear blooming maid, the shepherd said,
My tender vows believe, These downcast eyes, and artless sighs,
Can ne'er thy faith deceive.
Though some there are, from fair to fair,
Delighting wild to rove, Such change, thou ne'er, from me canst fear,
Thy charms secure my love.
Then Phebe now, approve my vow, By truth, by fondness press'd; smile assume to grace thy bloom, And make thy shepherd bless'd.
A blush o'erspread her cheek with red, Which half she turn'd aside ;
With pleasing woes, her bosom rose, And thus the maid replied —
Dear gentle youth, I know thy truth,
And all thy arts to please; But ah ! is this a time for bliss,
Or themes as soft as these ?