Tixall Poetry/The Death of Amintas
XXVII.
The Death of Amintas.
Adue to the pleasures and follies of love,For a passion more noble my fancy doth move;My sheapard is dead, and I live to proclaime,In sorrowfull notes, my Amintas his name.The wood-nimphs reply when they hear me complain, Thou never shalt see thy Amintas againe: For death hath befriended him, Fate hath defended him,None, none alive, is so happy a swaine.
You sheapards and nimphs that have danc'd to his laies,Come helpe me to sing forth Amintas his praise;Noe swaine for the mirtle with him durst dispute,Soe sweete were his notes, when he sung to his lute.Then come to his grave, and your kindnes persue,To weave him a garland of cipresse and yew: For life hath forsaken him, Death hath oretaken him,Noe swaine alive will be ever so true.
Then let me alone to my wretched estate,I lost him to soone, and I lov'd him to late;Ye caves and ye fountaines my witness can prove,How deeply I sigh for the losse of my love:And you, O ye powers, whom I chiefly adore,This favour I never will cease to implore, Soe that I may goe above, And there inioy my love,Then, then, I never will part with him more.