[Song]
V.
Imitated
from
the
FRENCH
.
YES
,
these
are
the
scenes
where
with
Iris
I
stray'd
;
But
short
was
her
sway
for
so
lovely
a
maid
;
In
the
bloom
of
her
youth
to
a
cloister
she
run
;
In
the
bloom
of
her
graces
,
too
fair
for
a
nun
!
Ill-grounded
,
no
doubt
,
a
devotion
must
prove
So
fatal
to
beauty
,
so
killing
to
love
!
Yes
,
these
are
the
meadows
,
the
shrubs
and
the
plains
;
Once
the
scene
of
my
pleasures
,
the
scene
of
my
pains
;
How
many
soft
moments
I
spent
in
this
grove
!
How
fair
was
my
nymph
!
and
how
fervent
my
love
!
Be
still
tho'
,
my
heart
;
thine
emotion
give
o'er
;
Remember
,
the
season
of
love
is
no
more
.
With
her
how
I
stray'd
amid
fountains
and
bow'rs
,
Or
loiter'd
behind
and
collected
the
flow'rs
!
Then
breathless
with
ardor
my
fair-one
pursu'd
,
And
to
think
with
what
kindness
my
garland
she
view'd
!
But
be
still
,
my
fond
heart
!
this
emotion
give
o'er
;
Fain
wouldst
thou
forget
thou
must
love
her
no
more
.