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And neerer when he did repaire,

Both face and voyce he knew,
He faw that Phillis was come there

Her plaints for to renew:
Thus leauing her vnto her plaints,
And forrow-flaking grones,
He heard her deadly discontents
Thus all breake forth at once.

Amintas, is my loue to thee
Of fuch a light account,
That thou difdain'st to looke on me,
Or loue as thou wert wont?

Where those the oaths that thou didst make,

The vowes thou didst conceiue,

When I, for thy contentment's fake,
Mine hearts delight did leaue?

How oft didft thou proteft to me,
The heauens should turne to nought,
The funne fhould firft obfcured be

Ere thou wouldst change thy thought?
Then, heau'n, diffolue without delay;
Sunne, fhew thy face no more,
Amyntas loue is loft for ay,

And woe is me therefore.

Well might I, if I had been wife,
Forefeene what now I finde!
But too much loue did fill mine eyes,
And made my iudgement blinde:
But ah, alas! th' effect doth proue
Thy drifts were but deceit,
For true and vndiffembled love
Will neuer turne to hate.

All thy behauiours were (God knowes)
Too fmooth and too difcreet:
Like fugar which impoyfned growes,
Sufpe&t because its fweet:

Thine oathз and vowes did promise more

Then well thou couldst performe, Much like a calme that comes before An unexpected ftorme.

God knowes, it would not grieue me mnch For to be kill'd for thee:

But oh! too neere it doth me touch,

That thou fhouldft murder mee;
God knowes, I care not for the paine
Can come for loffe of breath;
Tis thy vnkindneffe, cruel fwaine,
That grieues me to the death.

Amyntas, tell me, if thou may,

If any fault of mine

Hath giuen thee caufe thus to betray

Mine hearts delight and thine?
No, no, alas! it could not be,
My loue to thee was fuch,
Unleffe that if I vrged thee,
In louing thee too much.

But ah, alas! what doe I gaine,
By thefe my fond complaints?
My dolour doubles thy difdaine,
My griefe thy ioy augments:
Although it yield no greater good,
It oft doth eafe my mind,
For to reproach th' ingratitude
Of him who is unkind.

With that her hand, cold, wan, and pale,

Upon her breft fhe layes,

And feeing that her breath did faile,
She fighes, and then fhe fayes,
"Amyntas!" and with that, poor mayd,
She figh'd againe full fore,

That after that fhe neuer fayd,

Nor figh'd nor breath'd no more.

Q

C

THE DEBT O R.

BY SIR JOHN MOORE.

HILDREN of affluence, hear a poor man's pray'r!

O hafte, and free me from this dungeon's gloom; Let not the hand of comfortless despair

Sink my grey hairs with forrow to the tomb!

Unus'd compaffion's tribute to demand,

With clamorous din wake charity's dull car,
Wring the flow aid from pity's loitering hand,
Weave the feign'd tale, or drop the ready tear.

Far different thoughts employ'd my early hours,
To views of blifs, to fcenes of affluence born;
The hand of pleasure firewed my path with flow'rs,
And every bleffing hail'd my youthful morn.

But ah, how quick the change!, the morning gleam,
That cheer'd my fancy with her magic ray,

Fled like the gairifh pageant of a dream,
And forrow clos'd the evening of my day.

Such is the lot of human blifs below;

Fond hope awhile the trembling flow'ret rears; 'Till unforeseen defcends the blight of wøe, And withers in an hour the pride of years.

In evil hour, to fpecious wiles a prey,

I trusted;-(who from faults is always free?) And the fhort progress of one fatal day

Was all the space 'twixt wealth and poverty.

Where could I feek for comfort or for aid?
To whom the ruins of my flate commend?
Left to my felf, abandon'd and betray'd,

Too late I found the wretched have no friend!

E'en he, amid the reft, the favour'd youth,
Whofe vows had met the tendereft warm return,
Forgot his oaths of conftancy and truth,

And left my child in folitude to mourn.

Pity in vain ftretch'd forth her feeble hand
To guard the facred wreaths by Hymen wove;
While pale-eyed avarice, from his fordid stand,
Scowled o'er the ruins of neglected love.

Though deeply hurt, yet, fwayed by decent pride, She hufh'd her forrows with becoming art,

And faintly ftrove with fickly fmiles to hide The canker-worm that prey'd upon her heart.

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