William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909.
Come, Come, My Good ShepherdsDavid Garrick (17171779)
C
In your holiday suits, with your lasses appear;
The happiest of folks are the guiltless and free,
And who are so guiltless, so happy, as we?
We practise no arts with hypocrisy fraught;
What we think in our hearts, you may read in our eyes;
For knowing no falsehood, we need no disguise.
But we, as the children of nature are bred;
By her hand alone, we are painted and drest,
For the roses will bloom when there’s peace in the breast.
Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head;
Content and sweet cheerfulness open our door,
They smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.
Like the flocks that we feed are the passions we feel;
So harmless and simple, we sport, and we play,
And leave to fine folks to deceive and betray.