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John Dryden - A Song. Go Tell Amynta, Gentle Swain
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1.
Go tell Amynta, gentle swain,
I would not die, nor dare complain.
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy voice will more prevail than mine;
For souls opprest and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain`d this kind relief.
That music should in sounds convey
What dying lovers dare not say.

2.
A sigh or tear perhaps she`ll give,
But love on pity cannot live:
Tell her that hearts for hearts were made,
And love with love is only paid,
Tell her my pains so fast increase
That soon it will be past redress;
For the wretch that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.
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