| By chance it was I met my love
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| It did me much surprise
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| Down by a shady myrtle grove
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| Just as the sun did rise
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| The birds they sang right gloriously
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| And pleasent was the air
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| And there was none save she and I
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| Among the flowers fair
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| In dewy grass and green we walked
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| She timid was and coy
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| How can’st thou choose but pity me
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| My pretty pearl, my joy
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| How comes it that thou stroll this way?
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| Sweet maiden tell me true
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| Before bright Phoebus' glittering ray
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| Has supped the morning dew?
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| I go to tend the flocks I love
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| The ewes and tender lambs
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| That pasture by the myrtle grove
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| That gambol by their dams
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| There I enjoy a pure content
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| At dawning of the day
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| Then, hand in hand, we lovers went
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| To see the flock at play
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| And as we wended down the road
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| I said to her, «Sweet maid
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| Three years I in my place abode
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| And three more must be stayed
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| The three that I am bound so fast
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| O fairest wait for me
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| And when the weary years are past
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| Then wedded we will be.»
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| «Three years are long, three times too long
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| Too lengthy the delay»
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| And then I answered in my song
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| «Hope wastes them quick away
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| Where love is fervent, fain and fast
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| And knoweth not decay
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| There nimbly fleet the seasons past
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| Accounted as one day.» |