An Answer to
SEFAUTIANS Farewel,
OR,
Fair Silvias Dying Complaint for the decease of her Love.
To the same TUNE.
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MY Sefaution, art thou Deceased,
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and left thy Silvia in sorrow behind?
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From my Torments let me be released,
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for in this World I no Comfort can find:
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My Loving Swain, for thee I Complain,
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O that I was able to call thee again;
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Then should I be, happy in thee,
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But this is a Blessing I never more shall see.
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Diddst thou Dote so much on my Beauty,
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and yet I would not thy Favours regard;
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For that cruel neglect of my Duty,
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these pains I bear is a legal Reward.
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Here in this Breast, my Soul is opprest,
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With sad sighs and anguish, O where shall I rest;
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Here in dispair, these Robes I tear,
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The heighth of my passion is more than I can bear.
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IN this Tomb now lies my Sefautian,
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while my poor heart is ready to brake;
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For I suffer the pains of my passion,
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I wish, my Dear, I had dyd for thy sake.
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Nothing appears, but troops of new fears,
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And here do I water thy Tomb with my Tears:
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Never did one, make greater moan,
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For thou art departed, and I am left alone.
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We by Death are parted asunder,
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and I am left to bemoan my hard Fate;
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O what sorrow of heart I lye under,
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I weep for thee; but alas tis too late.
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Hes gone before, whom I did adore,
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The thoughts of his Sayings does trouble me sore;
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From Misery, Death set me free,
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For why should I live any longer here, than he.
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While thy dying tears they were vented,
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thou saidst, fair Silvia, I bid thee adieu;
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But when gone, I shall then be lamented,
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and now I find that thy sayings are true;
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Why did a frown, so soon cast thee down,
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Thy sorrows with favours I promisd to crown:
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But first I try, thy Constancy,
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Not thinking that Death woud have been thy destiny.
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While I on my Pillows am lying,
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methinks I hear then his hovering Ghost,
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With shrill trembling voice he is crying,
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make haste, fair Silvia, whom I loved most.
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This would he say, Love, make haste away,
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And do not endeavour no longer delay:
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He is, I know, in Shades below,
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And therefore I now will to the Elizium go.
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Scorching Love soon turnd to a Feaver,
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make haste, kind Charon, she often did cry;
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All her beautiful Charms they did leave her,
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as in Deaths power she panting did lye.
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Then with a groan, and sorrowful moan,
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Fair Silvia said thus to her Lover alone:
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Ill no more be, in Chains, but free,
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For my dear Sefautian, I come, I come to th[e]e.
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