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