While I, forlorn and defolate, was left,
Of ev'ry help, of ev'ry hope, bereft;
To ev'ry element expos'd lay,
And to my griefs a more defenceless prey.
For thee, myntas! all these pains were borne,
For thee thefthands were wrung, thefe hairs were torn;
For thee my foul to figh shall never leave,
Thefe eyes to weep, this throbbing heart to heave.
To mourn thy fall I'll fly the hated light,
And hide my head in fhades of endless night;
For thou wert light, and life, and health, to me;
The fun but thanklefs fhines that shows not thee. ICS
Wert thou not lovely, graceful, good, and young?
The joy of fight, the talk of ev'ry tongue?
Did ever branch fo fweet a bloffom bear?
Or ever early fruit appear fo fair?
Did ever youth fo far his years tranfcend?
Did ever life fo immaturely end?
For thee the tuneful fwains provided lays,
And ev'ry Mufe prepar'd thy future praise :
For thee the bufy Nymphs ftripp'd ev'ry grove,
And inyrtle wreaths and flow'ry chaplets wove: 115
But now, ah, difmal change! the tuneful throng
To loud lamentings turn the cheerful fong:
Their pleafing task the weeping virgins leave,
And with unfinith'd garlands ftrew thy grave.
There let me fall, there, there lamenting lie;
There grieving grow to earth, despair, and die !
This faid, her loud complaint of force the ceas'd, Excefs of grief her falt'ring speech fupprefs'd: Along the ground her colder limbs fhe laid, Where late the grave was for Amyntas made, Then from her swimming eyes began to pour Of foftly-falling rain a filver fhow'r; Her loosely-flowing hair, all-radiant bright, O'erspread the dewy grafs like streams of light; As if the fun had of his beams been thorn, And caft to earth the glories he had worn: A fight fo lovely fad, fuch deep diftrefs No tongue can tell, no pencil can express.
And now the winds, which had fo long been still, Began the fwelling air with fighs to fill;
The water-nymphs, who motionlefs remain`d,
Like images of ice, while fhe complain'd,
Now loos'd their streams, as when defcending rains
Roll the steep torrents headlong o'er the plains:
The prone Creation, who so long had gaz'd,
Charm'd with her cries, and at her griefs amaz'd,
Began to roar and howl with herrid yell,
Difmal to hear, and terrible to tell!
Nothing but groans and fighs were heard around,
And Echo multiply'd each mournful found.
When all at once an univerfal paufe
Of grief was made, as from fome fecret cause.
The balmy air with fragrant fcents was fill'd,
As if each weeping tree had gums diftill'd:
Such, if not fweeter, was the rich perfume
Which swift afcended from Amyntas' tomb,
As if th' Arabian bird her nest had fir'd,
And on the fpicy pile were new expir'd.
And now the turf, which late was naked feen, Was fudden spread with lively springing green. 155 And Amaryllis faw, with wond'ring eyes,
A flow'ry bed, where fhe had wept, arise:
Thick as the pearly drops the fair had shed
The blowing buds advanc'd their purple head;
From ev'ry tear that fell a violet grew,
And thence their sweetness came, and thence their mournful hue.
Remember this, ye Nymphs and gentle Maids! When folitude ye seek in gloomy shades, Or walk on banks where filent waters flow,
For there this lonely flow'r will love to grow: 165
Think on Amyntas oft' as ye shall stoop
To crop the ftalks and take 'em softly up:
When in your fnowy necks their sweets you wear,
Give a foft figh, and drop a tender tear!
To lov'd Amyntas pay the tribute due,
And bless his peaceful grave where first they grew.
WEEPING AND NOT SPEAKING.
WHY are those hours which Heav'n in pity lent
To longing love in fruitless sorrow spent ?
Why fighs my fair? why does that bofom move
With any paffion stirr'd but rifing love?
Can Discontent find place within that breaft,
On whofe foft pillows ev'n Despair might rest?
Divide thy woes, and give me my fad part,
I am no ftranger to an akeing heart;
Too well I know the force of inward grief,
And well can bear it to give you relief:
All love's fevereft pangs I can endure;
I can bear pain, tho' hopeless of a cure:
I know what 't is to weep, and figh, and pray,
To wake all night, yet dread the breaking day:
I know what 't is to wifh, and hope, and all in vain,
And meet, for humble love, unkind difdain:
Anger and hate I have been forc'd to bear,
Nay, jealoufy--and I have felt despair.
These pains for you I have been forc'd to prove,
For cruel you, when I began to love;
Till warm compaffion took at length my part,
And melted to my wish your yielding heart.
O the dear hour in which you did refign!
When round my neck your willing arms did twine,
And in a kiss you said your heart was mine. 25
Thro' each returning year may that hour be
Distinguish'd in the rounds of all eternity;
Gay be the fun that hour in all his light,
Let him collect the day to be more bright,
Shine all that hour, and let the reft be night. 30
And fhall I all this heav'n of blifs receive
From you, yet not lament to see you grieve?
Shall I, who nourish'd in my breaft defire,
When your cold fcorn and frowns forbid the fire,
Now when a mutual flame you have reveal'd,
And the dear union of our fouls is feal'd,
When all my joys complete in you I find,
Shall I not share the forrows of your mind?
O tell me, tell me all-whence does arise
This flood of tears? whence are these frequent fighs?
Why does that lovely head, like a fair flow'r
Opprefs'd with drops of a hard-falling fhow'r,
Bend with its weight of grief, and feem to grow
Downward to earth, and kifs the root of wo?
Lean on my breast, and let me fold thee fast,
Lock'd in thefe arms think all thy forrows paft;
Or, what remain think lighter made by me ;
So I fhould think, were I fo held by thee.
Murmur thy plaints, and gently wound my ears;
Sigh on my lip, and let me drink thy tears;
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