University of Virginia Library

Song.

[Amyntas goe, thou art undone]

Amyntas goe, thou art undone,
Thy faithfull heart is crost by fate;
That Love is better not begunne,
Where Love is come to love too late;
Had she professed hidden fires,
Or shew'd one knot that tyed her heart:
I could have quench'd my first desires,
And we had only met to part;
But Tyrant, thus to murther men,
And shed a Lovers harmles bloud,
And burne him in those flames agen,
Which he at first might have withstood;
Yet, who that saw faire Chloris weep
Such sacred dew, with such pure grace;
Durst thinke them fained teares, or seeke
For Treason in an Angels face:
This is her Art, though this be true,
Mens joyes are kil'd with griefes and feares;
Yet she like flowers opprest with dew,
Doth thrive and flourish in her teares:
This Cruell thou hast done, and thus,
That Face hath many servants slaine.
Though th'end be not to ruine us,
But to seeke glory by our paine.