By Sir Gilbert Eliott (1722–1777)
MY sheep I neglected, I broke my sheep-crook,
And all the gay haunts of my youth I forsook;
No more for Amynta fresh garlands I wove:
For ambition, I said, would soon cure me of love.
Oh! what had my youth with ambition to do? 5
Why left I Amynta? Why broke I my vow?
Oh! give me my sheep, and my sheep-crook restore,
And I’ll wander from love and Amynta no more.
Through regions remote in vain do I rove,
And bid the wide ocean secure me from love! 10
O fool! to imagine that aught could subdue
A love so well founded, a passion so true!—
Alas! ’tis too late at thy fate to repine:
Poor shepherd, Amynta can never be thine;
Thy tears are all fruitless, thy wishes are vain, 15
The moments neglected return not again.