Glen Collection of printed music > Printed music > Wit and mirth, or, Pills to purge melancholy > Volume 3

Pleasant and Diver tive, 159
l^TT^JliB
AS sad Atnyntor in a Meadow lay,
Slumbring upon a bed of new made Hay,
A Dream, a fatal Dream unlock'd his Eyes,
Whereat he wakes, and thus Amy?itor crys ;
Chloris, where art thou Chloris ? Oh, she's fled,
And left Amy?itor to a loathed Bed.
Hark how the Winds conspire with storm and rain,
To stop her course, and beat her back again :
Hark how the Heavens chide her in her way,
For robbing poor Atnyntor of his joy :
And yet she comes not Chloris, O ! she's fled,
And left Atnyntor to a loathed Bed.
Come, Chloris, come, see where Atnyntor lies,
Just as you left him, but with sadder eyes ;
Bring back that heart which thou hast stolen from me,
That Lovers may record thy constancy :
O ! no she will not, Chloris ? O ! she's fled,
And left Atnyntor to a loathed Bed.
O ! lend me (Love) thy wings that I may fly,
Into her Bosom, take my leave and die ;
What Comfort have I now i'th' World since she,
That was my World of joy is gone from me :
My Love, my Chloris ? Chloris, O ! she's fled,
And left Amyntor to a loathed Bed.
Awake Amyntor from this Dream for she,
Hath too much goodness to be false to thee ;
Think on her Oaths, her Vows, her Sighs, her Tears,
And those will quickly satisfie thy Fears :
No, no Atnyntor, Chloris is not fled,
But will return unto thy longing Bed.