AMINTAS,
Or, The constant Shepherds complaint.
Whilst others take delight to range,
And mostly pleasure take in change,
Amintas vows hel constant prove,
Unto the death to his dear Love.
Tune of, Young Pheon strove the bliss to taste.
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CHast thoughts within my love-sick breast
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most welcome do I find,
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Whilst other rangers are possest
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with a lascivious mind,
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Let others love variety,
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my Caelia ile adore,
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And might I gain her company
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Id never covet more.
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Such charming sweetness in her eyes,
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I ere was wont to find,
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They did attract and still surprize,
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and captivate my mind,
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But though shes fickle I must love
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and cannot but admire,
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Though she my passion disaprove,
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it more augments my fire.
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Cupid has made too deep a wound,
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that for to cure the smart,
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Theres none but she that can be found
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to ease my Love-sick heart,
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Oh! might I be so fortunate
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my Shepherdess to gaine,
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But she contemns my mean estate,
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and laughs at all my pain.
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Her beautys such none can withstand,
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the attractives of her eyes,
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The greatest Monarch may command,
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and at first view surprize,
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Yea gods! her victim Ile he still
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and must adore her charms,
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Though she should be inclosed still
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within anothers Arms.
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Oh cruel fayr! how oft did you
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both swear and eke protest,
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Your love both reall was and true,
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when yet you were in jest,
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Whilst I believd and did receive
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your words with listning strange,
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Yet now you scornfully deceive,
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and love to rove and range.
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How many houres by me been spent
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in sobs and sighs in vain,
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Each minute full of discontent,
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regardless of my pain,
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Whilst Syren like your looks insnare,
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intending to deceive,
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For till they love you speak them fair,
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and then you take your leave.
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The second part to the same Tune,
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Beware fair Nymph least Cupids Dart
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against you being bent,
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Ere long ensnare your stubborn heart
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and cause you to repent,
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Altho that now you scornful are
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and pitty not my flame,
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True Lovers are the gods chief care,
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who will repay the same.
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You tax us with inconstancy
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when we poor men do find,
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Your Sex does love Variety
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more fickle than the Wind.
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The Ship that rides upon the Waves
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more stedfast in foul weather,
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gainst which the curling Billows laves
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oft sailing God knows whether.
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The Choristers within the Groves
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with warbling notes can tell,
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When Philomell did chaunt our loves
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I thought that all was well;
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The merry Shepherds on the Lawn,
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how would they sing your praise,
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Ere blushing Sol began to dawn
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in their sweet Roundelays.
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But finding you unconstant prove,
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the Scene is alterd quite,
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Although they blame me for my Love,
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to you they bear a spite,
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Instead of praises curses store
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on you each day bestow,
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When that your name comes them be-fore
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as with their flocks they go.
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In time therefore my Rivall leave,
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though tempting be his charms,
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Your dying Shepherd wrongd receive
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into your Snowey Arms,
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The gods they have designd, that you
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must be my wife at last,
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Then we shall greet like Lovers true
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when Storms are gone and past.
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Then shall I well rewarded be,
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with bliss for all my pain,
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And endless my felicity,
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when constant you remain,
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New transports we shall alwaies find,
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for to encrease Loves fire,
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When both are mutually thus joynd,
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and have but one desire.
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