The COMPLAINT. I Ye verdant greens, ye shady woods, Ye gardens, and ye groves, Ye tinkling streams, ye murm'ring floods, Ye grotto's, and alcoves. II Alas! ye yield me no delight, In sighs I waste the day, In tears consume the tedious night, For Strephon is away. III How often his persuasive tongue, Beguil'd the fleeting days, When tender strains he sweetly sung, In Leonora's praise. IV How sweetly flew the time away, How blith was every hour, When I with Strephon past the day, At yonder blooming bower. V His auburn tresses careless grew, In ringlets round his neck, His lovely eyes of glossy blue, And smiling rosy cheek. VI His graceful mein, and gentle look, With skin as lillies fair, Bedeck'd with garland, pipe and crook, None cou'd with him compare. VII As thro' the dale, or in the grove, Together we did go, He told me pretty tales of love, And I believ'd them true. VIII But now he's gone, and I must grieve, For ever I must mourn, Out of his sight I cannot live, And fear he'll ne'er return. IX In shady bow'rs, and mossy cells, Forlorn and lost I stray, By chrystal streams, and purling rills, I waste the live-long day. X When absent from the youth I love, My breast is fraught with pain, No comfort can my bosom prove, Each shepherd I disdain. XI For Strephon was the pride of swains, His worth by all approv'd, I heard his sweet melodious strains, I heard and fondly lov'd. XII Ye careless nymphs, so blith and gay, Your choice with caution make, Let no false swain your heart betray, For Leonora's sake.