Chloris.

Air - "My lodging is on the cold ground." I.         My Chloris, mark how green the groves,             The primrose banks how fair:         The balmy gales awake the flowers,             And wave thy flaxen hair. II.         The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,             And o'er the cottage sings;         For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,             To shepherds as to kings III.         Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string             In lordly lighted ha':         The shepherd stops his simple reed,             Blythe, in the birken shaw. IV.         The princely revel may survey             Our rustic dance wi' scorn;         But are their hearts as light as ours,             Beneath the milk-white thorn? V.         The shepherd, in the flow'ry glen,             In shepherd's phrase will woo:         The courtier tells a finer tale -             But is his heart as true? VI.         These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck             That spotless breast o' thine:         The courtier's gems may witness love -             But 'tis na love like mine.