Happy streams, whose trembling fal… With still murmur softly gliding, Happy birds, whose chirping call, With sweet melody delighting, Hath mov’d her flinty and relentle…

Down in a valley as Alexis trips, Daphne sat sweetly sleeping. Soon as the wanton touch’€™d her r… She nicely falls aweeping. The wag full softly lifts her,

Where most my thoughts, there leas… Where least I come, there most my… Where most I love, I never show m… From what my mind doth hold, my bo… I careless seem, where most my car…

Oft have I vow’d how dearly I did… And oft observ’d thee with all wil… Sighs I have sent, still hoping t… Millions of tears I tender’d to t… Yet thou of sighs and silly tears…

Dear pity, how, ah! how, wouldst t… That best becometh beauty’s best a… Shall my desert deserve no favour… But still to waste myself in deep… Like him who calls to echo to reli…

There is a jewel, which no Indian… Can buy, no chymic art can counter… It makes men rich in greatest pove… Makes water wine; turns wooden cup… The homely whistle, to sweet music…

When Cloris heard of her Amyntas… She grieved then for her unkind de… Oft sighing sore, and with a heart… I die, I die, I die, she thus com… Whom, when Amyntas spied,

O, what shall I do, or whither sh… Shall I make unto her eyes? O, no… Shall I seal up my eyes and speak… Then in a flood of tears I drown… For tears being stopped will swell…

My throat is sore, my voice is hoa… My rests are sighs, deep from the… My song runs all on sharps, and wi… Time on my breast, I shrink with… Thus still, and still I sing, and…

All pleasure is of this condition, It pricks men forward to fruition, But if enjoy’d, then like the humm… The honey being shed, away doth fl… But leaves a sting, that wounds th…

Stay, Corydon, thou swain, Talk not so soon of dying: What though thy heart be slain, What though thy love be flying? She threatens thee, but dares not…

Thou art but young, thou say’€™st, And love’€™s delight thou weigh’€™… Oh! take time while thou may’€™st, Lest, when thou would’€™st, thou m… If love shall then assail thee,

As fair as morn, as fresh as May, a pretty grace in saying nay, Smil’st thou sweetheart? then sing and say, Ta na na no, But O! that love enchanting eye,

Of joys and pleasing pains I late… O joys with pains! O pains with j… And little thought as then of now… But now think of my then sweet bit… All day long I my hands, alas! go…

A silly sylvan, kissing heav’n-bor… Scorched his lips for his so fond… I, not so fond, but gaz’d whilst s… And all my heart straight into fla… The sylvan justly suffer’d for his…