SEFAUTIAN's Farewel:
OR,
Fair SILVIA'S Matchless [Cr]uelty,
To an Excellent New Tune: Or, Sefautian's Farewel.
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I.
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HOpe Farewel, adieu to all Pleasure,
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no Torment so great, as Love with Dispair;
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S[ilv]ia Frowns, my endeavour's to please her,
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and Laughs at those pains she makes me to bear:
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Life's my Disease, and there is no Cure
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but Death's cruel Dart, that must set me at ease;
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When I'm no more, then may she grieve
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for him, who while living she never would relieve.
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II.
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In the World so Charming a Creature,
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my Fancy tells me I never beheld;
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Splendid Beauty is Grace in each Feature,
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that with Love-Raptures I strangely am fill'd:
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Here I lye slain, with Darts of disdain,
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While Silvia's hard heart will not pitty my pain;
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But let her know for this her Hate,
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She may much Repent it when as it is too late.
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III.
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Can you be so desperate Cruel,
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as for your sake to let Death by my Doom?
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Love is like the Unquenchable Fuel,
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in which all my Glory and Life will consume:
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Still you dispise my sorrowful Crys,
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And over your Lover doth still Tyrannize;
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But when kind Death shall set me free,
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You may be Rewarded for this your Cruelty.
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IV.
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When the World shall read this sad Story,
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which here I Write with a trembling Quill;
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Shewing how you have blasted my Glory,
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Oh! will they not count you a Tyrant still:
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Then let me find, my Silvia more kind,
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To comfort and cherish my troubled mind
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For if I go, to the Shades below,
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'Tis you are the cause of my final overthrow.
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V.
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O my Grief is never lamented
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by she whom I do so dearly adore;
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With her Frowns I am d[a]yly Tormented,
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no Creature for Love sure, did e're suffer more:
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CUPID's keen Dart, has wounded my heart,
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I never, no, never, did feel greater smart;
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Here a poor Slave, one Smile does crave,
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Or else you will send him soon to the silent Grave.
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VI.
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In your Charms I dearly delighted,
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and ever thought you my Heaven to be;
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Yet by you I was evermore slighted,
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and now you make a poor Martyr of me:
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Won't you therefore, your Captive restore,
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Who sues for your Love, and desires no more?
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You may be sure, pains I endure,
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And 'tis in your power either to Kill or Cure.
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VII.
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In a sad and sorrowful Ditty,
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with Sighs and Tears I have sent forth my moan;
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Yet my fair one affords me no pitty,
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but lets me languish to Death all alone:
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This very Day, now I must away,
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Both strength, heart and spirits, with life, does decay
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More then untrue, Silvia was you,
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And therefore farewel, for I bid the World Adieu.
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