AMYNTAS.
137
Sylvia, I now am well convinced thou lovest,
But thou hast caught the tender flame too late.
The god, whose power thou hast profanely spurned,
With dreadful vengeance now asserts his empire,
When the bee shoots it's sting, it parts with life;
Like it unfortunate Amyntas dies.
He, at his death, a cruel heart transfixes,
Which was impenetrable while he lived,
Unfeeling to a warm, yet virtuous passion.
And if thy amiable spirit, loth
To quit it's well known scenes for Pluto's gloom,
Yet hovers round it's melancholy friends;
Look down with pleasure on thy nymph's distress,
Enjoy her sighs, an incense due to thee;
Enjoy her plaintive words, thy well-earned vows;
Enjoy the copious streaming of her tears,
A fit libation to thy injured manes.
But thou hast caught the tender flame too late.
The god, whose power thou hast profanely spurned,
With dreadful vengeance now asserts his empire,
When the bee shoots it's sting, it parts with life;
Like it unfortunate Amyntas dies.
He, at his death, a cruel heart transfixes,
Which was impenetrable while he lived,
Unfeeling to a warm, yet virtuous passion.
And if thy amiable spirit, loth
To quit it's well known scenes for Pluto's gloom,
Yet hovers round it's melancholy friends;
Look down with pleasure on thy nymph's distress,
Enjoy her sighs, an incense due to thee;
Enjoy her plaintive words, thy well-earned vows;
Enjoy the copious streaming of her tears,
A fit libation to thy injured manes.
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