Published in Lyra Britannica.

Lyrics: John Lockman

Near Thames' green banks, a love-lorn nymph reclin'd
Thus tax'd her Thyrsis, various as the wind:
"Hast thou, perfidious youth, thy oaths forgot,
And must the mournful willow be my lot?
Since thou condemning gods thy vows hast broke,
Thus play'd with love and made my fame thy joke,
A dire revenge on thee I now have chose,
For soon these waves shall end my life and woes".

This said, she hasted to the sounding flood,
And shudd'ring o'er its flow'ry margin stood,
The tear of anguish starting in her eye,
Resolv'd to plunge, she vents a dismal sigh.
But, in his terrors whilst grim death appears,
She cries (her wav'ring mind o'erspread with fears):
"'Tis madness all, I'll fly back to the plains;
I've but one life, and there's a choice of swains".