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Thomas Arne
(1710 - 1778)

I seek my shepherd gone astray (The Shepherdess)
(S.Fl./Vn.Vc.Kbd.)
Score, part(s) and cover page (PDF), €0.00 for bundled copies Download this item(1710 - 1778)

I seek my shepherd gone astray (The Shepherdess)
(S.Fl./Vn.Vc.Kbd.)
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Pub. London, 1760.
Lyrics: Anon
I seek my shepherd gone astray,
He left our cot the other day;
Tell me, ye gentle nymphs and swains,
Pass'd the dear rebel through your plains?
Oh! whither, whither must I roam,
To find and charm the wand'rer home?
Sports he upon the sheaven green,
Or joys he in the mountain scene;
Leads his flocks along the mead,
Or does he seek the cooler shade?
Oh! teach a wretched nymph the way
To find her lover gone astray.
To paint, ye nymphs, my truant swain:
A manly softness crowns his mien;
Adonis was not half so fair,
And when he talks, 'tis heav'n to hear.
But Oh! the soothing poison shun;
To listen is to be undone.
He'll swear no time will quench his flame:
To me the perjur'd swore the same;
Too fondly loving to be wise,
Who gave my heart, an easy prize;
And, when he tun'd his siren voice,
Listen'd, and was undone by choice.
But sated now, he shuns the kiss
He courted once, his greatest bliss;
Whilst I with fiercer passions burn,
And pant and die for his return.
Oh! whither, whither shall I rove,
Again to find my straying love?
I seek my shepherd gone astray,
He left our cot the other day;
Tell me, ye gentle nymphs and swains,
Pass'd the dear rebel through your plains?
Oh! whither, whither must I roam,
To find and charm the wand'rer home?
Sports he upon the sheaven green,
Or joys he in the mountain scene;
Leads his flocks along the mead,
Or does he seek the cooler shade?
Oh! teach a wretched nymph the way
To find her lover gone astray.
To paint, ye nymphs, my truant swain:
A manly softness crowns his mien;
Adonis was not half so fair,
And when he talks, 'tis heav'n to hear.
But Oh! the soothing poison shun;
To listen is to be undone.
He'll swear no time will quench his flame:
To me the perjur'd swore the same;
Too fondly loving to be wise,
Who gave my heart, an easy prize;
And, when he tun'd his siren voice,
Listen'd, and was undone by choice.
But sated now, he shuns the kiss
He courted once, his greatest bliss;
Whilst I with fiercer passions burn,
And pant and die for his return.
Oh! whither, whither shall I rove,
Again to find my straying love?