Chloris dead, lamented by Amintor.
[I]
Mourn, mourn with me, all true Enamour'd hearts,
And Shepherds throw your pipes away:
Cupid go burn thy Arrows and thy Darts,
Let Night for ever smother Day:
For Chloris our bright Sun is dead,
And with her all our joys are fled.
II
Love is with grief congeal'd into a Stone,
And o're my Chloris grave she lies;
Where round about the Graces sit and moan,
Neglecting other Deities:
The valleys where her flocks she fed
Are drown'd with tears since she is fled.
III
Then follow me, where comfort never shin'd;
Down, down into some darker Cell;
There see Amintor weep, till he grow blind
And comfortless for ever dwell:
The Gods I fear will soon repent
This universall punishment.
