SEE, whilst thou weep'st, fair Chloe, see The world in sympathy with thee. The cheerful birds no longer sing; Each drops his head and hangs his wing: The clouds have bent their bosom lower, And shed their sorrows in a shower; The brooks beyond their limits flow, And louder murmurs speak their woe: The nymphs and swains adopt thy cares: They heave thy sighs and weep thy tears, Fantastic nymph! that Grief should move Thy heart obdurate against Love. Strange tears! whose power can soften all -- But that dear breast on which they fall. |