The flocks shall leave the mountains,
The woods the turtle dove,
The nymphs forsake the fountains,
Ere I forsake my love!

Torture! fury! rage! despair!
I cannot, cannot bear!

Not show'rs to larks so pleasing,
Nor sunshine to the bee,
Not sleep to toil so easing,
As these dear smiles to me.

Fly swift, thou massy ruin, fly!
Die, presumptuous Acis, die!