SONG XIII.
Pity if you'd be pity'd.
I
Why (Cruel!) with that coy Behaviour
Do you meet Amyntor's Flame?
Why deny him ev'ry Favour
That so much adores your Name?
Adores it too, with such a Passion
(Fervent, lasting and divine)
As wou'd from all Hearts draw Compassion,
All but that hard Heart of thine.
II
Gods! why thus d'ye wast your Graces?
Why thus bountiful in vain?
Why have Devils Angel's Faces?
Why must Vertue meet Disdain?
Wherever was a beaut'ous Creature
That bore Light'ning in her Eye,
But to her Lover shew'd ill Nature
And cou'd smile to see him die?
III
'Tis true, at last Heav'ns Indignation,
Causeless Hatred to reprove,
Makes her doat with equal Passion
On some Youth averse to Love;
One that regardless, sees her languish,
Like a withering Lily Pine
O pity then Amyntor's Anguish,
Or that Fate may soon be thine.
