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〈♫〉〈♫〉 IN a dark sha—dy Cy-press Grove, where nought but dis—mal thoughts of Love, no plea—sant, nor no chear—ful Ray, did e're ad—mit—tance find; the me-lan-cho-ly Stre—phon lay, thus, thus, thus sigh—ing to the Wind; the me-lan-cho-ly Stre—phon lay, thus, thus, thus sigh—ing to the Wind: Ah! do not, Strephon, think to find, a Cure for thy tortur'd Mind, there amongst those whom
Fate has blest, with kind and yielding Charms: Where ev'ry Night each Swain does rest, se- cur'd by Love from harms; where ev'ry Night each Swain does rest, se—cur'd by Love from harms. Cease, wretched Strephon! cease to grieve, do thou like o—ther Shepherds live; free from all Care there hours are pass'd, free as the Flocks they keep; Dances and Songs there Days do wast, there Nights they pass in sleep; Dances and Songs there
Days do wast, there Nights they pass in sleep. Sad is thy Fate, since thou a—lone, in- constancy surpass'd by none, has fix'd thy Heart, where no return can e're ex—pe—cted be: Yet for my Ce-lia's love, to mourn shall pleasure be to me; yet for my Ce-lia's love, to mourn shall pleasure be to me.
〈♫〉〈♫〉 In a dark sha—dy Cy—press Grove, where nought but dis—mal thoughts of Love, no pleasant, nor no chearful Ray, did e're ad—mit—tance find, did e're admittance find; the me-lan-cho-ly Strephon lay, thus sigh—ing to the Wind, the Wind; the me—lan—cho—ly Strephon lay, thus, thus sigh-ing to the Wind: Ah! do not, Strephon, think to find, a Cure for thy tortur'd Mind, there amongst those whom
Fate has blest, with kind and yielding Charms: Where ev'ry Night each Swain does rest, se- cur'd by Love from harms; where ev'ry Night each Swain does rest, secur'd by Love from harms. Cease, wretched Strephon! cease to mourn, to mourn, do thou like o—ther Shepherds live; free from all Cares there hours are pass'd, free as the Flocks they keep; Dances and Songs there Days do wast, there Nights they pass in sleep; Dances and Songs there
Days do wast, there Nights they pass in sleep. Sad is thy Fate, since thou a—lone, in- constancy surpass'd by none, has fix'd thy Heart, where no return can e're ex—pe—cted be: Yet for my Ce—lia's love, to mourn shall plea—sure be to me; yet for my Ce—lia's love, to mourn shall pleasure be to me.