1 Go tell @3Amynta,@1 gentle Swain, I wou'd not die, nor dare complain, Thy tuneful Voice with numbers joyn, Thy words will more prevail than mine. To Souls oppress'd, and dumb with grief, The Gods ordain this kind releif; That Musick shou'd in sounds convey What dying Lovers dare not say. 2 A Sigh or Tear perhaps she'll give, But love on pitty cannot live. Tell her that Hearts for Hearts were made, And love with love is only paid. Tell her my pains so fast encrease, That soon they will be past redress; But ah! the Wretch, that speechless lyes, Attends but Death to close his Eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO JOHN KEATS, POET, AT SPRING TIME by COUNTEE CULLEN POOR [OR, COCK] ROBIN by MOTHER GOOSE EPITHALAMION by EDMUND SPENSER SONNET by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) TOWERING OVER THE WRECKS OF TIME by JOHN BOWRING |