« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
Though mountains meet not, lovers may;
What other lovers do, did they :
The god of love sat on a tree,
And laught that pleasant fight to fee.
Τω νυνι, θαυμ’ αελστον, 'Ερωτικον συνοντε 'Αθυρετην αθυρμα Εν τωδ' Έρως επ' όζω Καθητο, και γελασσε, Θεαμα τερωνον ειδων.
'ER moorlands and mountains, rude, barren,
As wilder'd and wearied I roam; [and bare,
A gentle young shepherdess sees my despair,
And leads me-o'er lawns—to her home.
Yellow sheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had
Green rushes were strew'd on her floor; (crown'd,
Her casement, sweet woodbines crept wantonly
And deck'd the sod seats at her door.
We sat ourselves down to a cooling repast,
Fresh fruits, and she culld me the best ;
While thrown from my guard by some glances the
Love flily stole into
I told my soft wishes ; she sweetly reply'd,
(Ye virgins, her voice was divine !)
I've rich ones rejected, and great ones deny’d,
But take me, fond shepherd, I'm thine.
Her air was so modest, her aspect fo meek,
So simple, yet sweet, were her charms;
I kiss’d the ripe roses that glow'd on her cheek,
And lock'd the lov'd maid in