Tixall Poetry/The Death of Amintas

by unknown author

XXVII.

The Death of Amintas.

 

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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.