The fleeting joys of love
⁠But one short moment last;
In pains do constant prove,
⁠Till life’s last moment’s past.

For Sylvia, cruel fair!
⁠The pride of all the vale#
I’ve left my goats and kids,
⁠To stray o’er hill and dale
But she, ungrateful maid!
⁠Heeds not thy tender sighs;
My proffer’d love she scorns,
⁠And to another flies.
⁠The fleeting joys of love, &c.

The maiden-oft’ would vow
⁠Her flame should ardent burn,
While this pure stream should flow,
⁠My fondness she’d return;
My passion’s still the same,
⁠The water still does flow;

The fickle maid is chang’d,
⁠Regardless of her vow.
⁠The fleeting joys of love, &c.