ABSENCE
.
A
PASTORAL
BALLAD
.
BY
—
.
HOW
sweet
to
recall
the
sweet
moments
of
joy
!
'Tis
this
,
and
this
only
can
Absence
employ
,
Can
ease
my
fond
heart
,
and
beguile
my
soft
pain
,
Till
I
see
with
delight
my
dear
charmer
again
.
Ah
!
who
ever
knew
such
full
transports
as
I
,
While
with
her
,
the
swift
minutes
unheeded
pass'd
by
,
Alas
!
with
the
sweet
recollection
I
burn
,
Bring
back
your
delights
,
ye
dear
moments
,
return
!
Ah
me
!
what
delights
in
my
bosom
would
rise
While
with
eager
attention
I've
hung
on
her
eyes
,
And
watch'd
the
kind
beams
of
Compassion
and
Love
,
While
she
pitied
my
passion
,
and
seem'd
to
approve
;
Ah
me
!
with
what
raptur'd
attention
I've
hung
,
To
catch
the
sweet
accents
that
flow'd
from
her
tongue
,
When
tenderness
bade
the
dear
maiden
impart
The
pleasing
sensations
that
glow'd
in
her
heart
.
O
how
does
my
Fair
one
consume
the
long
day
?
Is
the
Charmer
quite
easy
while
I
am
away
?
Indeed
if
our
thoughts
like
our
hearts
should
agree
,
The
dear
lovely
maiden
is
thinking
on
me
:
Ah
!
did
she
but
think
with
such
fondness
as
I
,
How
much
would
she
grieve
,
and
how
oft
would
she
sigh
!
Yet
with
so
much
fond
Love
may
her
bosom
ne'er
burn
,
If
she
sighs
as
I
sigh
,
if
she
mourns
as
I
mourn
.
But
why
do
I
wander
?
why
sigh
thus
alone
?
Alas
!
'tis
the
loss
of
my
Fair
that
I
moan
.
Why
thus
every
hour
does
my
sorrow
increase
?
Alas
!
it
is
Absence
that
ruins
my
peace
.
Why
swells
my
sad
bosom
with
fear
and
with
grief
?
Ah
!
nought
but
her
presence
can
bring
me
relief
.
Why
thus
down
my
cheek
trickles
fast
the
big
tear
?
Alas
!
can
I
help
it
?
—
my
Fair
is
not
here
.
Till
I
nourish'd
this
passion
I
all
unconcern'd
Saw
Peace
my
companion
wherever
I
turn'd
,
Till
now
with
my
heart
all
at
ease
I
could
rest
,
And
a
sigh
was
a
stranger
unknown
to
my
breast
.
What
then
is
this
Love
?
and
why
do
I
endure
These
griefs
in
my
mind
,
nor
endeavour
to
cure
?
When
thus
my
fond
heart
is
o'erwhelm'd
with
Despair
,
And
I
know
no
delight
when
away
from
my
Fair
?
Yet
,
Colin
,
these
pains
,
spite
of
all
thou
hast
said
,
By
one
hour
of
her
presence
are
far
over-paid
,
These
sorrows
from
Absence
which
now
you
deplore
,
Then
vanish
,
are
lost
,
and
are
thought
of
no
more
.
Recall
those
rash
words
,
and
forbear
to
complain
,
Since
the
next
tender
meeting
rewards
all
your
pain
,
Let
sweet
Expectation
then
lessen
your
care
,
Let
Hope
soften
Absence
,
and
keep
off
Despair
.
Sure
,
sure
those
dear
pleasures
once
more
will
return
;
How
long
in
this
Absence
distrest
must
I
mourn
?
How
long
must
I
wish
,
while
my
lot
I
deplore
,
That
dear
angel-face
!
—
could
I
see
it
once
more
!
That
dear
angel-voice
!
—
Time
,
how
swift
didst
thou
seem
,
While
I
listen'd
enchanted
as
Love
was
her
theme
!
O
come
those
dear
hours
!
and
to
soothe
my
fond
pain
Love
again
be
her
theme
,
and
I
listen
again
!
How
dull
and
how
slow
do
the
moments
retreat
!
Time
was
when
they
flew
:
—
now
there's
lead
on
their
feet
.
Ye
Loiterers
,
be
gone
;
why
so
long
do
ye
stay
?
Ye
fly
when
I'm
with
her
,
ye
creep
when
away
.
Ah
!
Colin
,
how
foolish
Time's
progress
to
blame
,
His
paces
are
equal
,
his
motions
the
same
;
'Twas
the
joy
of
her
Presence
made
Time
appear
fleet
,
'Tis
the
pain
of
her
Absence
adds
lead
to
his
feet
.