SEFAUTIAN's farewell: OR, Fair SILVIA'S Matchless Cruelty▪  
To an Excellent New Tune: Or, Sefautian's farewell.  
 

I.  
HOpe farewell▪ adieu to all Pleasure,  
●o Torment so great, as Love with despair;  
S 〈…〉 ia Frowns, my endeavour's to please her,  
and Laughs at those pains she makes me to bear:  
life my Disease, and th●re is no Cure  
but Death's cruel Dart▪ that must set me at ease;  
When I'm no more, then may she g●i●ve  
for him, who while living she never would relieve.   

II.  
In the World so Charming a Creature,  
I● my Farc 〈…〉 lls me I never beholded;  
Splendid Be 〈…〉 y is Grace in each Feature,  
that with Love-Raptures I strangely am filled:  
Here I lie slain, with Darts of disdain,  
While Silvia's hard heart will not pitty my pain;  
But let her know for this her Hate,  
She may much Repent it when as it is too late.   

III.  
Can you be so desperate Cruel,  
as for your sake to let Death be my Doom?  
Love is like the Unquenchable Fuel,  
in which all my Glory and Life will consume:  
Still you despise my sorrowful Crys,  
And over your Lover doth still tyramnize▪  
But when kind Death shall set me free,  
You may be Rewarded for this your Cruelty.   

IV.  
When the World shall red this sad Story,  
which here I writ with a trembling Quill;  
showing how you have blasted my Glory,  
Oh! will they not count you a Tyrant still:  
Then let me find, my Silvia more kind,  
To comfort and cherish my troubled mi●d  
For if I go, to the Shades below,  
'tis you are the cause of my final overthrow.   

V.  
O my Grief is never lamented  
by she whom I do so dearly adore;  
With her Frowns I am daily Tormented,  
no Creature for Love sure, did e're suffer more:  
CUPID's keen Dart, has wounded my heart,  
I never, no never, did feel greater smart;  
Here a poor Slave o●e Smile doe● crave,  
Or else you will sand him soon to the silent Grav●.   

VI.  
In your Charms I dearly delighted,  
and ever thought you my heaven to be;  
Yet by you I was evermore slighted▪  
and now you make a poor Martyr of me:  
Won't you therefore, your Captive restore,  
Who sues for your Love, and desires no more▪  
You may be sure, pai●s I endure▪  
And 'tis in your power either to Kill or Cure.   

VII.  
In a sad and sorrowful Ditty,  
with Sighs and Tears I have sent forth my moan▪  
Yet my fair one affo●ds me no pitty,  
but lets me languish to Death all alone:  
This very Day, now I must away,  
Both strength, heart and spirits, with life, does decay  
More then untrue, Silvia was you,  
And therefore farewell, for I bid the World Adieu.    

This may be Printed,  
R. P.   

Printed for J▪ Deacon, at the Angel in Guiltspur-Street, without Newgate. 1688.