urnfully murmuring by.

Alas silly Swain that I was,
Thus sadly complaining he cry'd;
When first I beheld that fair Face,
'Twere better by far I had dy'd:
She talk'd, and I blest the dear Tongue,
When she smil'd 'twas a Pleasure too great;
I listned, and cry'd when she Sung,
Was Nightingale ever so sweet.

How foolish was I to believe,
She cou'd doat on so lowly a Clown;
Or that a fond Heart wou'd not grieve,
To forsake the fine Folk of the Town:
To think that a Beauty so gay,
So kind and so constant wou'd prove;
Or go clad like our Maidens in Gray,
Or live in a Cottage on Love.

What tho' I have skill to complain,
Tho' the Muses my Temples have crown'd;
What tho' when they hear my soft Strains,
The Virgins sit weeping around:
Ah _Collin_ thy Hopes are in vain,
Thy Pipe and thy Lawrel resign;
Thy false one inclines to a Swain,
Whose Musick is sweeter than thine.

And you my Companions so dear,
Who sorrow to see me betray'd;
Whatever I suffer forbear,
Forbear to accuse my false Maid,
Tho' thro' the wide World we shou'd range,
'Tis in vain from our Fortunes to fly;
'Twas hers to be false and to change,
'Tis mine to be Constant and die.

If whilst my hard Fate I sustain,
In her Breast any Pity is found;
Let her come with the Nymphs of the Plain,
And see me laid low in the Ground;
The last humble Boon that I crave,
Is to shade me with _Cypress_ and _Yew_;
And when she looks down on my Grave,
Let her own that her Shepherd was true.

Then to her new Love let her go,
And deck her in Golden Array;
Be finest at every fine Show,
And Frolick it all the long Day:
Whilst _Collin_ forgotten and gone,
No more shall be talk'd of or seen;
Unless that beneath the Pale Moon,
His Ghost shall glide over the Green.

_The Constant_ Warrior: _Set by Mr._ Ramondon.

Farewel _Chloe_, O farewel,
I'll repair to Wars alarms;
And in foreign Nations tell,
Of your Cruelty and Charms:
Come ye briny Billows rowl,
And convey me from my Soul,
Come ye briny Billows rowl,
And convey me from my Soul:
Since the cruel Fair,
The cause of my Despair,
Has forc'd me hence to go,
Where stormy Winds do blow;
Where raging Seas do toss and mount,
With dangers that I can't recount,
Forgive me showing thus my Woe;
_Where raging Seas