An Answer to SEFAUTIANS Farewell, OR, Fair Silvia's Dying Complaint for the decease of her Love.  
To the same TUNE.  
 
 

My Sefaution, art thou Deceased,  
and left thy Silvia in sorrow behind?  
From my Torments let me be released,  
for in this World I no Comfort can find:  
By Loving Swain, for thee I Complain,  
O that I was able to call thee again;  
Then should I be, happy in thee,  
But this is a Blessing I never more shall see.   

Didd'st thou Dote so much on my Beauty,  
and yet I would not thy Favours regard;  
For that cruel neglea of my Duty,  
these pains I bear is a legal Reward.  
Here in this Breast, my Soul is oppressed,  
With sad sighs and anguish, O where shall I rest;  
Here in despair, these Robes I tear,  
The height of my passion is more than I can hear.   

IN this Tomb now lies my Sefautians,  
while my poor heart is ready to brake;  
For I suffer the pains of my passion,  
I with, my Dear, I had died for thy sake.  
Nothing appears, but troops of new fears,  
And here do I water thy Tomb with my Tears:  
Never did one, make greater moan,  
For thou art departed, and I am left alone.   

We by Death are parted asunder,  
and I am left to bemoan my hard Fate;  
O what sorrow of heart I lie under,  
I weep for thee; but alas 'tis too late.  
He's gone before, whom I did adore,  
The thoughts of his Sayings does trouble me sore;  
From Misery, Death set me free,  
For why should I live any longer here, than he.   

While thy dying tears they were vented,  
thou saidst, fair Silvia, I bid thee adieu;  
But when gone, I shall then be lamented,  
and now I find that thy sayings are true;  
Why did a frown, so soon cast thee down,  
Thy sorrows with favours I promised to crown:  
But first I try, thy Constancy,  
Not thinking that Death would have been thy destiny.   

While I on my Pillows am lying,  
methinks I hear then his hover Ghost,  
With shrill trembling voice he is trying,  
make haste, fair Silvia, whom I loved most.  
This would he say, Love, make haste away,  
And do not endeavour no longer delay:  
He is, I know, in Shades below,  
And therefore I now will to the Elysium go.   

Scorching-Love soon turned to a Fever,  
make haste, kind Charon, she often did try;  
All her beautiful Charms they did leave her,  
as in Death's power she panting did lie.  
Then with a groan, and sorrowful moan,  
Fair Silvia said thus to her Lover alone:  
I'll no more be, in Chains, but free,  
For my dear Sefautian, I came, I come to the.   
FINIS.   

This may be Printed, R. P.  
Printed for I. Deacon. in Guilt-spur-street.