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489. Song—Behold my love how green the groves

by
 BEHOLD, my love, how green the groves,
 The primrose banks how fair;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
 And wave thy flowing hair.
The lav’rock shuns the palace gay, And o’er the cottage sings: For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween, To Shepherds as to Kings.
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu’ string, In lordly lighted ha’: The Shepherd stops his simple reed, Blythe in the birken shaw.
The Princely revel may survey Our rustic dance wi’ scorn; But are their hearts as light as ours, Beneath the milk-white thorn! The shepherd, in the flowery glen; In shepherd’s phrase, will woo: The courtier tells a finer tale, But is his heart as true! These wild-wood flowers I’ve pu’d, to deck That spotless breast o’ thine: The courtiers’ gems may witness love, But, ’tis na love like mine.

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