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But where does my Phyllida stray
And where are her grots and her bow'rs
Are the groves and the vallies as gay,
And the shepherds as gentle as ours ?
The groves may perhaps be as fair,
And the face of the vallies as fine,
The swains may in manners compare,
But their love is not equal to mine.

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For when Paridel tries in the dance
Any favour with Phyllis to find,

O how, with one trivial glance,
Might she ruin the peace of my mind!

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Alas! from the day that we met,
What hope of an end to my woes
When I cannot endure to forget
The glance that undid my repose.
Yet time may diminish the pain:
The flower, and the shrub, and the tree,
Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,
In time may have comfort for me.

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