The Complaint.
"Oh, had I Colin's winning ease,"
Said Lindor with a sigh,
"So carelessly ordained to please,
I'd every care defy.
"If Colin but for Daphne's hair
A simple garland weave,
He gives it with so sweet an air
He seems a crown to give.
"But, though I cull the fairest flower
That decks the breast of spring,
And posies from the woodland bower
For Daphne's bosom bring,
"When I attempt to give the fair,
With many a speech in store,
My half-form'd words dissolve in air,
I blush and dare no more.
"And shall I then expect a smile
From Daphne on my love,
When every word and look the while
My clownish weakness prove?
"Oft at the close of summer day,
When Daphne wander'd by,
I've left my little flock astray,
And follow'd with a sigh.
"Yet, fearing to approach too near,
I lingered far behind:
And, lest my step should reach her ear,
I shook at every wind.
"How happy then must Colin be
Who never knew this fear,
Whose sweet address at liberty
Commands the fair-one's ear!
"A smile, a tear, a word, a sigh,
Stand ready at his call;
In me unknown they live and die,
Who have and feel them all."
Ah, simple swain, how little knows
The love-sick mind to scan
Those gifts which real love bestows
To mark the favoured man.
Secure, let fluent parrots feign
The musick of the dove;
'Tis only in the eye may reign
The eloquence of love.