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Awake my Pipe; in ev'ry Note express
Fair Stella's Death, and Colinet's Distress.
Ye brighter Maids, faint Emblems of my Fair,
With Looks cast down, and with dishevel'd Hair,
In bitter Anguish beat your Breasts, and moan
Her Hour untimely, as it were your own.
Alas! the fading Glories of your Eyes
In vain we doat upon, in vain you prize:
For, tho' your Beauty rule the silly Swain,
And in his Heart like little Queens you reign;
Yet Death will ev'n that ruling Beauty kill,
As ruthless Winds the tender Blossoms spill.
If either Musick's Voice, or Beauty's Charms,
Could make him mild, and stay his lifted Arm;
My Pipe her Face, her Face my Pipe should save,
Redeeming thus each other from the Grave.
Ah fruitless Wish! Cold Death's up-lifted Arm
No Musick can persuade nor Beauty charm:
For see (O baleful Sight!) see where she lies!
The Budding Flow'r, unkindly blasted, dies.
Awake my Pipe; in ev'ry Note express
Fair Stella's Death, and Colinet's Distress.
Unhappy Colinet! What boots thee now
To weave fresh Garlands for the Damsel's Brow?
Throw by the Lilly, Daffadil and Rose;
One of black Yew, and Willow pale, compose,
With baneful Henbane, deadly Night-shade drest;
A Garland, that may witness thy Unrest.
My Pipe, whose soothing Sound could Passion move,
And first taught Stella's Virgin Heart to love,
Untun'd, shall hang upon this blasted Oak,
Whence Owls their Dirges sing, and Ravens croak:
Nor Lark, nor Linnet shall by Day delight,
Nor Nightingale divert my Moan by Night;
The Night and Day shall undistinguish'd be
Alike to Stella, and alike to me.
Fair Stella's Death, and Colinet's Distress.
Ye brighter Maids, faint Emblems of my Fair,
With Looks cast down, and with dishevel'd Hair,
In bitter Anguish beat your Breasts, and moan
Her Hour untimely, as it were your own.
Alas! the fading Glories of your Eyes
In vain we doat upon, in vain you prize:
For, tho' your Beauty rule the silly Swain,
And in his Heart like little Queens you reign;
Yet Death will ev'n that ruling Beauty kill,
As ruthless Winds the tender Blossoms spill.
If either Musick's Voice, or Beauty's Charms,
Could make him mild, and stay his lifted Arm;
My Pipe her Face, her Face my Pipe should save,
Redeeming thus each other from the Grave.
Ah fruitless Wish! Cold Death's up-lifted Arm
No Musick can persuade nor Beauty charm:
For see (O baleful Sight!) see where she lies!
The Budding Flow'r, unkindly blasted, dies.
Awake my Pipe; in ev'ry Note express
Fair Stella's Death, and Colinet's Distress.
Unhappy Colinet! What boots thee now
To weave fresh Garlands for the Damsel's Brow?
Throw by the Lilly, Daffadil and Rose;
One of black Yew, and Willow pale, compose,
With baneful Henbane, deadly Night-shade drest;
A Garland, that may witness thy Unrest.
My Pipe, whose soothing Sound could Passion move,
And first taught Stella's Virgin Heart to love,
Untun'd, shall hang upon this blasted Oak,
Whence Owls their Dirges sing, and Ravens croak:
Nor Lark, nor Linnet shall by Day delight,
Nor Nightingale divert my Moan by Night;
The Night and Day shall undistinguish'd be
Alike to Stella, and alike to me.
Thus
