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EBBA 21334

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
The Tragedy of Phillis , Complaining of the Disloyal
love of Amintas . To a New Court Tune.

AMintas on a Summers Day,
to shun Apollo's Beams,
Was driving of his Flock away,
to take some cooling Streams:
And through a Forrest as they went,
hard by a Rivers side,
A voice which from a Grove was sent,
invited him to bide.

The voice well seem'd for to bewray,
some Male-contented mind,
For oft-times did he hear it say,
ten thousand times unkind:
The remnant of that raging moan,
did all escape his ear,
For every word brought forth a groan,
and every groan a tear.

And nearer when it did repair,
both face and voice he knew,
He saw that Phillis was come there,
her plaints for to renew:
Thus leaving her unto her plaints,
and sorrow slaying groans,
He heard her deadly discontents,
thus all breakt forth at once.

Amintas is thy Love to me
of such a light account,
That thou disdain'st to lnok on me,
or Love as thou was wont:
Were those the Oaths that thou didst make,
the Vows thou didst conceive,
When I for thy contentment sake,
my hearts delight did leave.

How oft didst thou protest to me,
the Heaven should turn to naught,
The Sun should first obscured be,
e're thou wouldst change thy thought.
Then Heaven dissolve without delay,
Sun shew thy face no more,
Amintas Love is lost for aye,
and wo is me therefore.

Well might I if I had been wise,
foreseen what I now find,
But too much Love did dull mine eyes,
and made my judgement blind:
But O alas! the effect doth prove,
that it was plain deceit,

For true and Undefiled Love,
will never turn to hate.

All thy behaviours were (God knows)
too smooth and too discreet,
Like Sugar which impoysoned grows,
suspects because it's sweet?
Thine oaths and vows did promise more,
then well thou couldst perform,
Much like a Calm that comes before
an unexpected Storm.

God knows it would not grieve me much,
for to be kill'd for thee,
But oh, too near it doth me touch,
that thou shouldst murther me:
God knows I care not for the pain,
can come for loss of breath,
'Tis thy unkindness, cruel Swain,
that grieves me to the death.

Amintas tell me if thou may,
if any fault of mine,
Hath given thee cause for to betray
mine hearts delight and thine:
No, no, alas, it could not be,
my love to thee was such,
Unless that I if urged thee,
in loving thee too much.

But ah, alas, what do I gain,
by this my fond complaint,
My dolour doubles my disdain,
my grief thy joy augment:
Although it yields no greater good,
it oft doth ease my mind,
For to reproach the ingratitude,
of him that is unkind.

With that her hand, cold, wan, and pale,
upon her breast she lays,
And seeing that her breath did fail,
she sighs and then she says,
Amintas , and with that poor Maid,
she sigh'd again full sore,
But after that she never said,
nor sigh'd, nor breath'd no more.

The Complaint of the Shepherd Harpalus.
To a New Tune.

P OOR Harpalus opprest with Love,
sat by a Christial Brook,
Thinking his sorrows to remove,
oft times therein did look:
And hearing how on pibble stones,
the murmuring River ran,
As if he had bequeath'd his groans,
unto it thus he began.

Fair streams, quoth he, that pitties me,
and hears my matchless moan,
If thou be going to the Sea,
as I do now suppone:
Attend my plaints past all relief,
which dolefully I breath,
Acquaint the Sea-Nymphs with the grief,
which still procures my death.

Who sitting in the clifty Rocks,
may in their Songs express,
While as they comb their Golden Locks,
poor Harpalus distress:
And so perhaps some Passengers,
that passeth by the way,
May stand and listen for to hear,
them Sing this doleful lay.

Poor Harpalus a Shepherd Swain,
more rich in Youth then store,
Lov'd fair Philenea hapless man,
Philenea O therefore.

Who still remorceless hearted Maid,
took pleasure in his pain,
And his good will poor soul repaid,
with undeserv'd disdain.

Ne'r Shepherd Loved Shepherdess,
more faithfully then he,
Ne'r Shepherd yet beloved less,
of Shepherdess could be.
How oft did he with dying looks,
to her his woes impart,
How oft his sight did testifie,
the dolour of his heart.

How oft from Vallies to the Hills,
did he his grief rehearse,
How often ecchoed they his ills,
a back again alas.
How oft on barks of staely pines,
of Beech. of Holly green,
Did he ingage on mournful Lines,
the grief he did sustain.

Yet all his plaint could have no place,
to change Philena's mind,
The more his sorrows did increase,
the more she prov'd unkind.
The thought thereof hath wearied care,
poor Harpalus did move,
That overcome with high dispair
he lost both life and Love.

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke.

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