Collin’s Complaint by Nicholas Rowe

Lyrics
Despairing beside a clear stream A shepherd forsaken was laid And, while a false nymph was his theme A willow supported his head The wind that blew over the plain To his sighs with a sigh did reply; And the brook in return to his pain Ran mournfully 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 died She talk'd, and I bless'd her dear tongue; When she smil'd, 'twas a pleasure too giutt; I listen'd and cry'd when she sung Was nightingale ever so sweet? How foolish was I to believe She could doat on so lowly a clown; Or that her fond heart would not grieve To forsake the fine folk of the town? To think that a beauty so gay So kind and so constant would prove; Or go clad like our maidens in grey Or live in a cottage on love? What though I have skill to complain Though the muses my temples have crown'd What though, when they hear my soft strain The virgins sit weeping around: Ah Colin! thy hopes are in vain Thy pipe and thy laurel resign; Thy fair one inclines to a swain Whose music is sweeter than third All you, my companions so dear Who sorrow to see me betray'd Whatever I suffer, forbear Forbear to accuse the false maid Though through the wide world I should range 'Tis in vain from my fortune to fly; 'Twas her's to be false and to change 'Tis mine to be constant and die
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Credits
- Writers
- Nicholas Rowe