Tixall Poetry/The Constant Lover

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LVII.

The Constant Lover.

I cannot change as others doe, Though you unkindly scorne,That faithfull swaine that sighs for you, For you alone was borne. ​Noe, Phillis, noe, your hart to move Another way I'll try,And to revenge my slighted love, Will still love on, and die.
When kild with greife Amintas lies, And you to mind will call,Those sighs that now unpitied rise, Those teares that faintly fall;That happy houre that ends my smart Will then begin your paine,For such a faithfull tender hart Will never breake in vaine.

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