Song Xxxviii. Collin’s Complaint Poem by Robert Anderson

Ye shepherds, tell me, have you seen
Fair Emma of the village green?
The roses deck her face so fair,
In tresses flows her auburn hair;
The fairest of the fair is she--
But, ah! she never thinks of me.
How oft beneath yon poplar's shade
I stole to see the village maid;
Now lonely thro' the vale I rove,
To shun Despair, and fly from Love.

With careless flight, the curious bee
From flow'r to flow'r still wanders free:
So I, ere Emma's face I knew,
From fair to fair contented flew;
With village youths and maidens gay
I join'd the dance at close of day;
But now in vain I seek repose,
And babbling Echo mocks my woes:
Then where shall hapless Collin rove,
To shun Despair, and fly from Love!

My flocks unheeded stray around,
My pipe hath lost its pleasing sound.
Ah, shepherds! when she trips the plain,
Since you can witness Collin's pain,
Beware, fair Emma's beauty shun,
Or soon like me you'll be undone.
Ye faithful damsels see me laid
Beneath yon waving poplar's shade,
And pity Collin of the grove,
Who fell a prey to hapless love!