Tixall Poetry/The Death of Amintas

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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.
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