Текст оригинала на английском языке Song A-La-Mode O'er the Desert, cross the Meadows, Hunters blew the merry Horn ; Phoebus chas'd the flying Shadows : Eccho, she reply'd, in Scorn ; Still adoring, And deploring, Why must Thirsis lose his Life ? Rivers murmur'd from their Fountains, Acorns dropping from the Oaks, Fawns came tripping o'er the Mountains, Fishes bit the naked Hooks ; Still admiring, And desiring : When shall Phillis be a Wife. |
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