Yestere’ en when the bat, and the owl, and his mate,
Were holding discourse their small matters about;
And the sun, that the wee little stars might shine out,
Had extinguished the lamp of his lustre so great.
A shepherd exclaimed: “O’ twas folly that I
My love should bestow upon one never kind,
Upon Siris the lovely, whose cold, cruel mind,
Would suffer unmoved a true lover to die.
“Often times, when our flocks on the common did browse,
I’ d approach her to pour in her ear my fond vows,
But unto her companions to haste she was sure.
O, light of my eyes! wouldst thou render me blest,
And wouldst grant me two kisses on thy snowy breast,
I swear that each one should an hour endure!”