Ianthe the lovely, the joy of her swain,
By Iphis was lov'd and lov'd Iphis again;
She liv'd in the youth, and the youth, in the Fair;
Their pleasure was equal and equal their care.
No delight, no enjoyment, their raptures withdrew,
But the longer they lov'd, still the fonder they grew.

A passion so happy alarm'd all the plain;
Some envy'd the Nymph, but more envy'd the swain:
Some swore t'would be pity their loves to invade,
That the lovers alone for each other were made;
But all, all consented, that none ever knew
A damsel more kind, or a shepherd more true.

Love saw them with pleasure and vow'd to take care
Of the faithful, the tender, the innocent pair;
What either might want, he bid either to move,
But nothing they wanted, but ever to love.
He did all to bless them the urchin could do,
That they stil should be gentle, kindhearted and true.