The musical Shepeherdess, or, Dorinda's lamentation for the loss of Amintas.  

Amintas all Arcadia's Glory was,  
A Youth so sweet that all he did surpass.  
But Times all mowing Sith this flower did cut,  
Fate to his days hath the last period put:  
For music, and for singing, who but he,  
Was fit to help the Gods with harmony?  
His fair Dorinda, seeing he was gone,  
And she poor mournful Damsel left alone,  
Invokes the Nymphs to sing his praise,  
Whilst she a Garland weaves, then ends her days,  
Resolving not to stay behind her Love,  
She being denied him here, mounts above.   
To a pleasant New Tune, called, Amintas farewel: or, Digbys farewel.  
 

ADieu to the Pleasures and follies of Love,  
For a passion more noble my fancy doth move,  
My Shepherd is dead and I live to proclaim,  
The sorrowful notes of Amintas his name,  
The Wood-Nymphs reply when they hear me complain  
Thou never shalt see thy Amintas again,  
For death hath befriended him,  
Fate hath defended him,  
None, none, alive is so happy a Swain.   

You Shepherds and Nymphs that have danced to his lays  
Come help me to sing forth Amintas his praise,  
No Swain for the myrtle durst with him dispute,  
So sweet were his notes whilst he sung to his Lute,  
Then come to his Grave and your kindness pursue,  
To wove him a Garland of Cypress and Yew,  
For life hath forsaken him,  
Death hath o'er▪ taken him,  
No Swai● again will be ever so true.   

Then leave me alone to my wretched estate  
I lost him too soon, and I loved him too late,  
You ecchees and fountains my witnesses prove  
How deeply I sigh for the loss of my Love,  
And now of our Pan whom we chief adore  
This favour I never will cease to implore  
That now I may go above,  
And here enjoy my Love,  
And live more happy than ever before.   

But if that old God should my wishes deny.  
My Soul through the clouds to my dearest shall fly  
So swift that his Deity shall not restrain  
Me from the delights of so happy a Swain,  
〈…〉 Petitions to Venus so fair.  
To secure my flight which I take in the air,  
Surely 〈◊〉 pity take,  
And Lovers happy make,  
For she herself has been catcht in love's snare.   

How pleasantly did our blessed time away creep,  
When Amintas and I did together keep Sheep,  
His music and mine did so sweetly agree,  
When we sat in the vale under a shady tree,  
The pretty Lambs feeding did to us give ear,  
And the vainty young kids lived secure from fear,  
But now he is dead and gone,  
And I am left alone,  
In the Spring time of life he concluded the year.   

Now the flocks do lament that their pastor is fled,  
But I more am grieved that Amintas is dead,  
They miss him all day, but I miss him at night,  
To them he gave safety, but to me sweet delight  
All day free from danger of ravenous beast,  
They fed securely, and at night took their rest,  
But I miss him night and day,  
Now he is fled away,  
His lips were to me a continual feast.   

You pretty kind Nymphs that have heard of his fame  
I beg your assistance to sound forth his name,  
B●t if there be any that my Shepherd ne'er knew,  
His 〈◊〉 i'll draw and present to their view,  
Thou 〈◊〉 or half so lively the shadow will be,  
Ye▪ I 〈◊〉 'twill be pleasant some part for to see.  
Apollos i'll compel,  
To help me to draw it well,  
And what there is wanting shall be made up inme,   

His cheeks red and white being free from all paint,  
And his looks so divine you would think him a Saint,  
A language so free, and so pleasant a voice,  
That I thought myself blest when I made him my choice▪  
When he sung all the world did admire that song,  
All sorts for to hear him together did throng,  
His body straight and tall,  
With something best of all,  
Which shall be nameless for fear you should long▪   

His music so sweet that it ravished each Soul,  
All creatures that heard it his loss do condole,  
But I most of all do lament for my dear,  
Who ne'er can enjoy myself whilst I live here,  
Two hearts once united by Love's lasting bands,  
Can ne'er be divided by deaths cruel hands;  
though he be gone before,  
he has my hair in store,  
Hark, Hark, he calls, i▪ le obey his commands▪   

I come, oh, I come, my Amintas, my love,  
My body i'll leave here in this pleasant Grove,  
This little sharp knife to my heart I will send,  
To tell it 'tis time to make ha●● to its friend;  
Some kind Nymph will bury me when I am dead,  
And that my true soul to my Shepherd is fled;  
Now all the world adieu,  
My dearest i'll pursue,  
This Garland shall crown my Amintas his head.   
W. P. With Allowance.   

Printed for I. Hose next the Rose near Houlbourn▪ Bridge.