1. <br />Go tell Amynta, gentle swain, <br />I would not die, nor dare complain. <br />Thy tuneful voice with numbers join, <br />Thy voice will more prevail than mine; <br />For souls opprest and dumb with grief, <br />The gods ordain'd this kind relief. <br />That music should in sounds convey <br />What dying lovers dare not say. <br /> <br />2. <br />A sigh or tear perhaps she'll give, <br />But love on pity cannot live: <br />Tell her that hearts for hearts were made, <br />And love with love is only paid, <br />Tell her my pains so fast increase <br />That soon it will be past redress; <br />For the wretch that speechless lies, <br />Attends but death to close his eyes.<br /><br />John Dryden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-go-tell-amynta-gentle-swain/
