Infcribed to the Right Hon. the Lord GODOLPHIN, Lord High-Treafurer of England. Qualis populeâ mærens Philomela fub umbrâ "Amiffos queritur fœtus 46 miferabile Carmen 66 Integrat, & moftis latè loca queftibus implet." VIRG. Geor. 4. TWAS at the time, when new-returning light For fook Forfook her myrtle bower and rofy bed, To tell the winds her woes, and mourn Amyntas dead. And did not weep? who such relentless eyes? And motion feem'd fufpended while fhe wept ; And in the grave with lov'd Amyntas laid.. Her cries alone her anguish could exprefs, } "Hear me," fhe cried, “ ye nymphs and fylvan gods, "Inhabitants of thefe once-lov'd abodes; "Hear my diftrefs, and lend a pitying ear, "Hear my complaint---you would not hear my prayer'; "The lofs which you prevented not, deplore, "And mourn with me Amyntas now no more. 4 "Tell "Tell me, thou fun that round the world doft fhine, "Haft thou beheld another lofs like mine? "Ye winds, who on your wings fad accents bear, "And catch the founds of forrow and defpair, "Tell me if e'er your tender pinions bore "Such weight of woe, fuch deadly fighs, before? "Tell me, thou earth, on whofe wide-fpreading bafe "The wretched load is laid of human race, "Doft thou not feel thyself with me opprest ? "Lie all the dead fo heavy on thy breaft? "When hoary winter on thy fhrinking head "His icy, cold, depreffing hand has laid, "Haft thou not felt lefs chillnefs in thy veins ? "Do I not pierce thee with more freezing pains? "But why to thee do I relate my woe, "Thou cruel earth, my most remorfelefs foe, "Within whose darkfome womb the grave is made, "Where all my joys are with Amyntas laid? "What is 't to me, though on thy naked head "Eternal winter fhould his horror fhed, "Though all thy nerves are numb'd with endless froft, "And all thy hopes of future fpring were loft ? "To me what comfort can the fpring afford? "Can my Amyntas be with spring restor❜d? “Can all the rains that fall from weeping skies, "Unlock the tomb where my Amyntas lies? "No, never! never !---Say then, rigid earth, 'What is to me thy everlasting dearth? "Though never flower again its head should rear, "Though never tree again fhould bloffom bear, "Though Though never grass should cloath the naked ground, "Nor ever healing plant or wholfome herb be found. "None, none were found when I bewail'd their want; "Nor wholfome herb was found, nor healing plant, "To eafe Amyntas of his cruel pains, "In vain I fearch'd the valleys, hills and plains; "But wither'd leaves alone appear'd to view, Or poisonous weeds diftilling deadly dew. "And if fome naked stalk, not quite decay'd, "To yield a fresh and friendly bud essay'd, "Soon as I reach'd to crop the tender shoot, "A fhrieking mandrake kill'd it at the root. "Witness to this, ye fawns of every wood, "Who at the prodigy astonish'd stood. "Well I remember what sad signs ye made, "What showers of unavailing tears ye fhed; "How each ran fearful to his moffy cave, "When the last gafp the dear Amyntas gave. "For then the air was fill'd with dreadful cries, "And fudden night o'erfpread the darken'd fkies; “Phantoms, and fiends, and wandering fires appear'd, "And screams of ill-prefaging birds were heard. "The foreft fhook, and flinty rocks were cleft, "And frighted streams their wonted channels left; "With frantic grief o'erflowing fruitful ground, "Where many a herd and harmless fwain was drown'd; "While I forlorn and defolate was left, "Of every help, of every hope bereft ; "To every element expos'd I lay, "And to my griefs a more defencclefs prey. "For 1 "For thee, Amyntas, all these pains were borne, "These eyes to weep, this throbbing heart to heave. "The fun but thankless fhines that fhews not thee. "Wert thou not lovely, graceful, good, and young? "The joy of fight, the talk of every tongue? "Did ever youth so far his. years tranfcend? "For thee the tuneful fwains provided lays, "And every Muse prepar'd thy future praise. "For thee the busy nymph stripp'd every grove, "And myrtle wreaths and flowery chaplets wove. "But now, ah difmal change! the tuneful throng "To loud lamentings turn the chearful fong. "Their pleafing task the weeping virgins leave, "And with unfinish'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 fhe ceas'd, Excefs of grief her faultering speech fupprefs'd. Along the ground her colder limbs fhe laid, Where late the grave was for Amyntas made; Then from her fwimming eyes began to pour Of foftly-falling rain a filver fhower; H Her |