BY a murmuring stream a fair shepherdess lay,
Be so kind, O ye nymphs, I oftimes heard her say,
Tell Strephon I dy, if he passes this way,
And that love is the cause of my mourning.
False shepherds that tell me of beauty and charms,
You deceive me, for Strephon’s cold heart never warms;
Yet bring me this Strephon, let me dy in his arms,
Oh Strephon! the cause of my mourning.
But first, said she, let me go
Down to the shades below,
E’er ye let Strephon know
That I have lov’d him so:
Then on my pale cheek no Blushes will show
That love was the cause of my mourning.
Her eyes were scarce closed when Strephon came by,
He thought she’d been sleeping and softly drew nigh;
But finding her breathless, oh heavens! did he cry,
Ah Chloris! the cause of my mourning.
Restore me my Chloris, ye nymphs use your art,
They sighing, reply’d, ‘twas yourself shot the dart
That wounded the tender young shepherdess heart,
And kill’d the poor Chloris with mourning.
Ah then is Chloris dead,
Wounded by me! he said;
I’ll follow thee, chaste maid,
Down to the silent shade.
Then on her could snowy breast leaning his head,
Expir’d the poor Strephon with mourning.
– Authors Unknown.