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A PASTORAL SONG BETWEEN PHILLIS AND AMARYLLIS, TWO NYMPHS, EACH ANSWERING OTHER, LINE FOR LINE.
[PHILLIS.] FIE! on the sleights that men devise! [AMARYLLIS.] Heigh-ho! silly sleights!
When simple Maids they would entice,
Maids are Young Men's chief delights!
Eyes like beams of burning sun!
If any Young Man win a Maid,
By trusting him, she is betrayed!
If Maids win Young Men with their guiles,
They deal like weeping crocodiles,
I know a simple country Hind ;
To whom fair DAPHNE provèd kind.
She had deceivèd many a Swain,
And plighted troth to them in vain.
There can be no grief more great! Her measure was with measure paid. Heigh-ho! heigh-ho! equal meed! She was beguiled, that had betrayed. So shall all deceivers speed!
If every Maid were like to me;
Both Love and Lovers scorned should be!
If every Maid were of my mind;
Methinks, Love is an idle toy.
Well, AMARYLLIS, now I yield!
Love conquers both in town and field!
SOME there are as fair to see too;
But want beauty to their stature.
Some have gracious, kind, behaviour;
Only you, in Court, or City,
LOVE! if a God thou art;
Then evermore thou must
If thou be just; O, wherefore doth thy dart
If, merciful; then why
Am I to pain reserved?
Who have thee truly served:
While She, that by thy power sets not a fly, Laughs thee to scorn; and lives at liberty!
Then, if a God thou wouldst accounted be; Heal me like her! or else wound her like me!
[In order to show the corresponding rhyme-system of these two Poems, apparently the only ones of this kind in the Literature, their answering rhymes are here numbered (1), (2), (3), &c.-E. A.]
STREPHON, upon some unkindness conceived, having made show to leave URANIA, and make love to another Nymph, was, at the next solemn assembly of Shepherds, not only frowned upon by URANIA; but commanded, with great bitterness, out of her presence. Whereupon, sorry for his offence, and desirous to regain her grace, whom he had never forsaken but in shew; upon his knees he, in this Song, humbly craves pardon and URANIA, finding his true penitence, and unwilling to lose so worthy a Servant, receives him again into greater grace and favour than before.
SWEET! I do not pardon crave,
By deserts, this fault amended!
May, with penance, be suspended!
Not my will, but Fate, did fetch
Into this unhappy error:
Which to plague, no tyrant's mind
Like my heart's self-guilty terror!