So rude and tuneless are thy lays,
The weary audience vow
'Tis not th' Arcadian swain that sings,
But 'tis his herds that low.
More verses by William Shenstone
- Song V. - On Every Tree, In Every Plain
- Song Vii. - When Bright Roxana Treads The Green
- Song Xix. - When Bright Ophelia Treads The Green
- To A Lady, With Some Coloured Patterns Of Flowers
- To A Friend
