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Home  »  The English Poets  »  Pastoral Ballad

Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. III. The Eighteenth Century: Addison to Blake

William Shenstone (1714–1763)

Pastoral Ballad

SINCE Phyllis vouchsafed me a look,

I never once dreamt of my vine:

May I lose both my pipe and my crook,

If I knew of a kid that was mine!

I prized every hour that went by,

Beyond all that had pleas’d me before;

But now they are past, and I sigh;

And I grieve that I prized them no more.

But why do I languish in vain;

Why wander thus pensively here?

Oh! why did I come from the plain

Where I fed on the smiles of my dear?

They tell me, my favourite maid,

The pride of that valley, is flown;

Alas, where with her I have strayed

I could wander with pleasure, alone.

When forced the fair nymph to forego,

What anguish I felt at my heart!

Yet I thought—but it might not be so—

’Twas with pain that she saw me depart.

She gazed, as I slowly withdrew,

My path I could hardly discern;

So sweetly she bade me adieu,

I thought that she bade me return.

The pilgrim that journeys all day

To visit some far distant shrine,

If he bear but a relique away

Is happy, nor heard to repine.

Thus widely removed from the fair

Where my vows, my devotion, I owe.

Soft Hope is the relique I bear

And my solace wherever I go.