English poem
SONG LXXXIII. AMINTA. A new SONG
by Anonymous
On a Bank beside a Willow, Heav'n her Covering Earth her Pillow, Sad Aminta sigh'd alone, From the chearless Dawn of Morning, Till the Dews of Night returning, Singing thus she made her Moan, Hopes are banish'd, Joys are vanish'd, Damon my belov'd is gone.
Time I dare thee to discover, Such a Youth and such a Lover, On so true so kind was he, Damon was the Pride of Nature, Damon liv'd alone for me, Fondly toying, Never cloying, Who so liv'd and lov'd as me.
When asunder, ever mourning, How we bless'd the Hour returning, Sweetest converse to bestore, But vain Thoughts off former Pleasures. Vain are those of Ship-wreck'd Treasures, All my Joys of Life are o'er. To befriend me, Death Oh: end me, Love and Damon are no more.