Music: Henry Purcell
How blest are shepherds, how happy their lasses,
While drums and trumpets are sounding alarms.
Over our lowly sheds all the storm passes
And when we die, 'tis in each other's arms
All the day on our herds and flocks employing,
All the night on our flutes and in enjoying.
Bright nymphs of Britain with graces attended,
Let not your days without pleasure expire.
Honour's but empty, and when youth is ended,
All men will praise you but none will desire.
Let not youth fly away without contenting;
Age will come time enough for your repenting.