THE Languishing Shepherd: OR, The Loss of Fair Lillia Lamented.  
To an excellent new Tune much in request. Licenced according to Order.  

I.  
WHen my Kids and my Lambs I treated,  
and to Mountains did invite,  
With clean Straw my Hurdle Sheated,  
where I might repose all night:  
Then free from Care I lived at Pleasure,  
while my Lillea took her flight,  
I at the Loss of such a Treasure,  
all my other, all my other, all my other Flocks did slight.   

II.  
Through the Woods and the Groves I rambled  
yet could never quit my fear;  
Birds methought on every Bramble,  
whistle Lillea in my Ear;  
Yet I upon my heedless Rover,  
never once could fix my Eye,  
Which makes me now so often over,  
Lillia, Lillia, Lillia, Lillia, Lillia, Lillia, Lillia cry.   

III.  
Many long and tedious Hours  
in the silent Groves I spend,  
Searching all the shady Bowers  
for my true entire Friend,  
Yet alas! I cannot find her,  
whose sweet Charms I do adore,  
But am left in Grief behind her,  
sighing, sighing, sighing, sighing, sighing sighing evermore.   

IV.  
Never was a sweeter Creature  
than my pleasant charming Fair;  
Could I in the Valleys meet her,  
then adieu to all Despair:  
Sorrows soon would be dispersed,  
like a Mist, or Morning Cloud,  
And a thousand Joys rehearsed,  
for she's Loyal, she's Loyal, just and true to what she vowed.   

V.  
Some ill Fortune hath attended  
my beloved Lillia,  
By which means her Life is ended,  
or so long she'd never stay  
From her Love who feels the Anguish  
which my Heart does now endure;  
She's too good to let me languish,  
for her pleasant charming Beauty I am sure.   

VI  
I have lost as great a Treasure,  
as the World did ever own;  
Riches, Honour, Peace, and Pleasure,  
these all remain in her alone:  
Kings in Diadems may Glory,  
let me but her Charms behold;  
Crowns I count but Transitory,  
Love is better, Love is better, Love is better worth than Gold.   

VII.  
Yet the Fates deny the Blessing  
of the fairest Beauty bright,  
Which is far beyond expressing  
all my Joys have taken flight:  
Sure some fatal stroke is given  
that has kept my Love from me,  
Therefore if she be not living,  
let me, let me, let me, let me, let me die as well as she.    

Printed for P. Booksby. J. Deacon. J. Blare. J. Back.